


Open Your Eyes And See

by iamsonny_j



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Asexuality, Bisexuality, Demisexuality, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Build, veteran bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsonny_j/pseuds/iamsonny_j
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is a veteran; a year on from losing his arm and the men of his team on patrol in Afghanistan, he has recovered enough to be living in Brooklyn. It's here that he starts to think about what the rest of his life is away from the military and how he can move forward beyond that, including questioning his sexuality and finding out what he really wants, or doesn't want. It's while at the VA centre that he reads about the Gender and Sexuality Support Group, run by Steve Rogers, and takes the first step to working out who he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Nienke <3
> 
> Warnings for general anxiety and one episode of lost time/severe distress due to mental illness.  
> Status: Complete

Bucky considers himself pretty lucky, all things considered. He’d moved back to Brooklyn only a few weeks ago, thanks to his friend Natasha who has offered him her spare room for rent. It is the city he’d grown up in before he’d moved away to college and then joined the army. When he got out of supported living he is put in touch with the VA in Brooklyn and it turned out it is only a short distance from where he’d been living, and the counselor seemed like a really nice guy. So yeah, things could definitely be worse.

It isn’t until Natasha gave him a hard punch in the shoulder that Bucky realises the car has stopped and they are pulled into the car park of the VA.

“Oww! Dammit, Nat, do you have to hit so hard?” he said while rubbing at his shoulder.

“We’ve been parked for a minute. In the last ten I’ve has better conversation with the radio,” she pauses before adding a little more seriously, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Bucky turns to look at her. Natasha is good, she is really good, but he is definitely better; he could read her feelings pretty well behind the act she has perfected. It makes him feel guilty to see that she is genuinely concerned. It makes it easy not to be mad with her. As much as he is forever thankful and indebted to the hospital staff and all those associated with the VA who has supported him during the first ten months of his recovery, it is such a relief not to have to defend his state of mind every time he wanted some quiet or sleep, or just not to talk for a while. Nat understood this, but she also knew when to push him and by just how much.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be completely ready, but now feels right. It’s the next step to moving on, right?”

Natasha smiles, “Okay, I’ll pick you up at the usual time.”

No questioning his judgement and so highlighting every reason why he cherishes what he has with Nat. He can’t help but grin a little.

“Are you still in my car, Barnes? Go show your silly grin to someone who cares.”

It only makes him grin more, but he gets out of her car. “Most people tell me it’s charming. Ask the nurses at the hospital.” He doesn’t get a response to that but he doesn’t miss the eye roll before she pulls away and drives out of the car park.

It is the view of the car leaving that suddenly starts the nerves rolling. It is silly really, because Nat has been dropping him off at the VA meetings for the past six weeks twice a week and, apart from the first two sessions, he’d managed to walk in with only very minor feelings of anxiety every time. Today is different though. Despite the preparation he’d been doing with Sam Wilson, the ex-serviceman and VA counselor, and hours of trying to convince himself that it isn’t such a big deal, it still feels like a pretty damn important step. After speaking with Sam about it a few times, Bucky has decided that standing up and talking about his experiences with the group has actually become a goal that is realistic enough to achieve. He tries to tell himself that it is okay to feel nervous.

Bucky isn’t too aware of his movements into the centre, working mostly on autopilot, until Sam greets him at the door to the meeting room.

“Hey buddy, how’s it going?”

Bucky finds he can’t respond straight away. The words got caught up somewhere. He holds up his right hand to signal Sam to wait, and then focuses on counting his breathes. One in, two out, three in, four out, five in, six out. He gets all the way to twenty before he stops and looks up at Sam.

“I’m okay,” he says steadily.

“Hey man, just being here ready to do this is a massive achievement. I know you don’t need me to tell you, but if at any point you need to take a break then you just let me know, if you can, or you can just leave the room and you can have a few minutes. The ball is in your court on this one. You talk about as much or as little as you need to.”

Bucky manages to smile in what he hopes shows how grateful he is of Sam’s support, and then he goes to take his place in the meeting room.

It’s strange to look on the group from the perspective of the front of the room. Most of the other regulars are already there. There are a few gaps on the chairs laid out, but Bucky knows that not everyone comes to every session. It is usually up to veterans how many sessions they come along to. At the moment however, Bucky is attending every one as part of his agreement when he left supported accommodation to return to living in Brooklyn.

There is only one face that he doesn’t recognise from previous sessions; a tall, quite well built, blond man, who had come in chatting with Sam and taken a seat beside him. Despite the athletic appearance, there is something about him that makes Bucky think he isn’t a veteran like everyone else in the room. He is too...free? There is brightness in his eyes. Bucky feels he’d lost most of his brightness long ago, just like the other ex-service personnel in the room.

He realises everyone is settled and ready for him to start. Sam never opens meetings when another member is due to speak. He’d explained to Bucky that it allowed the person speaking to have complete control over what is happening and to feel empowered as an individual. Bucky appreciates that now. It cut out the awkward few moments when anxiety could build before being called forward to speak.

“Hey everyone. So, my name is James Barnes. I was a sergeant in the 107th Infantry stationed in Afghanistan for what was meant to be 2 years,” he takes a deep breath and feels the tension in his shoulders suddenly start to shift away. “I was sixteen months into my tour when the vehicle I was in with my men hit a road side bomb. I lost my left arm as a result. Three of my men died instantly and a fourth died later in hospital. There were two survivors, including myself.”

In total Bucky speaks for 35 minutes. Only at one point did he need to stop significantly to take time to count his breaths. He got all the way to 70 this time but it was okay, because when he looked back out at Sam and everyone else, no one had seemed impatient or frustrated with him.

“I’m in my twelfth month of recovery, so this is kind of like an anniversary party except with less cake,” he jokes, “It’s been 9 months since I left the hospital and went into VA supported living, and it’s now been 6 weeks since I’ve been living back in Brooklyn. I feel like I can start on the next steps to really finding myself again, and I’m realising that a long journey to recovery doesn’t mean that it’s a journey not worth taking.”

The room is still when he finishes speaking, as if waiting for a sign that there is nothing more to be said. Bucky shifts a little restlessly in his position in front of the group as the magnitude of what he has just achieved starts to dawn on him. He finds Sam again in the audience and the man just gives him a nod, which Bucky takes as the push to finish up.

“Yeah, so, thank you for listening. I really appreciate it. Thanks.” He isn’t really expecting the applause that spreads through the room, even though it is how the evenings usually end. It seems different knowing it is directed at his words.

He is vaguely aware of Sam wrapping up the meeting by giving the usual messages about the coming week and what to expect and also reiterating the phone numbers for emergency support and the advertisement of the services in the community cafe that also shared the building.

That’s where Bucky finds himself after every meeting. Natasha lead a judo class that overlapped with the VA meetings but it meant Bucky usually has an hour or more to spare before she would swing by to pick him up. He’d found that he actually didn’t mind this so much. The cafe down the hall is actually pretty decent for a community establishment. He isn’t usually the only veteran to end up there after a meeting finishes up, but people are respectful enough to leave him to his own thoughts while he is in there.

His current favourite pastime is to take a couple of the various flyers from a rack on the wall and read through them while drinking his coffee. It doesn’t really matter what they are about, it’s always just something to read and quite often he’d learn something new. Tonight’s choices are about the importance of vaccination against childhood illness, and another about a library scheme that helps deliver books to people no longer able to get to their local library on their own. There is no set pattern to what he chooses to pick up each time, except there is always one flyer that his eyes linger on for much longer than the others.

He’s already read it maybe fifteen times. It’s actually the one that has started the tradition of reading the flyers. It has taken a couple of weeks to work up the courage to take it from the rack, and when he has he’d quickly tried to hide his interest by picking up several others to look at too. Right now he knew that it is tucked away in his bag as if carrying it around would help to deal with it. He has every intention of talking with his therapist about it, but kept delaying and justifying it is because of planning for speaking that night. Well, that is over now. There is nothing left to justify putting it off. It is the next item on his list anyway, added a couple of weeks ago, written simply as ‘sexuality/sexual identity?’

Bucky finishes the rest of his coffee when it gets near to the time for Nat to be arriving for his ride. Before he leaves the cafe he doesn’t make the effort this time to try to hide it when he picks up another of the flyers with the bright lettering and bold information on the front titled ‘Gender and Sexuality Support Group’.

\--

Bucky’s next appointment with his therapist comes around quickly. He is still having one appointment a week, with more if he feels he needs to, which hasn’t been the case yet.

Generally Bucky gets on very well with his therapist. She is a petite lady of about his age, with a dark shase of strawberry blond hair and very subtle freckles across her nose. It is actually very easy to feel calm around her, which he guesses is a key part to being in the job in the first place.

They speak briefly about Bucky’s achievement of getting up and speaking about his experiences at the VA last week and about coping with the difficulties in day to day life with the loss of his left arm (it certainly isn’t as easy outside of supported living). Of course nothing can really be hidden from a therapist, so it shouldn’t have been surprising when she prompts him later into their session.

“You seem distracted today, James. Is there something else you’d like to focus on?”

He isn’t really sure how to approach the topic. Instead, he reaches into his bag and takes out the flyer (the new one and not the one that has been read fifteen times and is falling apart around the edges) and places it onto the table between them.

She picks up the flyer from the table and quickly reads over it. She places it back down and smiles softly at Bucky.

“Is this something you’d like to talk about now?”

Bucky shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for a little while. It’s on my list.”

His therapist knew about the list. It is a way of keeping track of goals and working through them or replacing them as they became achievable targets. She’d suggested something of the sort when Bucky has first expressed distress about how to approach trying to get over the obstacles in his life without feeling overwhelmed.

“If you think you may be homosexual, James, then I’m sure this group would be an excellent way to find the support you need.”

“I’m not gay,” he says quickly. “I’m not gay,” he repeats quieter, “I’m just not sure what I am. Maybe this wouldn’t be the right place, but I don’t think I’m going to let it lie until I go along. So I guess I’ve already makes the decision that I’m going to go, but I thought it would be best to let you know now in case things don’t go the way I envision.”

“A very sensible idea and if you want me to I can find you some additional reading on the topics of sexuality, if you think that would help.”

Bucky smiles, “That would be great, thanks.”

They wrap up the session as always with confirming the appointment for next week and going through the emergency phone numbers and Bucky’s schedule for the week, with the addition of attending the support group for the first time on Thursday evening.

\--

Bucky’s week goes a bit like this; Monday and Wednesday are VA nights. Tuesday is therapy. Friday is occasionally reserved for appointments at the hospital to do with (the remains of) his left arm/shoulder. Thursday evening is now sexuality support group, or at least it is for this week.

His time in the day is pretty much vacant. Since returning to Brooklyn, however, he’d makes it his aim to get fit again and regain some of the healthy appearance he has before the injury. Sure, he is fed right in the hospital and has support to do the same in the home, but he’d lost a lot of weight initially and a lot of muscle tone. There isn’t a lot of time to place a fitness regime alongside his other recovery obstacles when he is there, and when he has suggested to a doctor about getting back to the gym and starting some light weight training, it has been frowned upon and dismissed as highly unwise. So, when he switched to his new doctor in Brooklyn one of the first things he’d asked is if it would be okay to get back to working out. He is cleared straight away as well as being praised for taking on such a positive approach to his recovery. Three times a week he goes for a run, and twice a week he does weights at the gym and some other cardio. He isn’t stupid, he knows he can’t push things too much straight away, but he isn’t prepared to let one arm and a long list of mental insecurities stop him from getting back to what he has been before.

It all meant that the week went by pretty quickly leading up to Thursday.

Natasha has said goodbye earlier in the afternoon. She works as a self defence and martial arts instructor and keeps a pretty strange schedule. It did mean that she wouldn’t be around to give him a lift to the VA. This actually works out fine for Bucky. He isn’t ready to have to explain to Nat about where he is going and why; he wants the chance to work this out for himself first. It would also work out that he’d have time to get home after the group before she would be back. At least then he wouldn’t have the guilt of having to make up an excuse and lie to her about where he’d been. He doesn’t want to keep her in the dark and while he knows that she understands there are some things he has to do on his own, he still feels as if he owes her his openness for inviting him into her home and supporting him so much.

It isn’t a long walk to the VA and it is a nice enough late September evening. Bucky has tried to become familiar with the bus routes of the area, but more often than not he favours walking. He’d been away from Brooklyn for so long that actually just walking through the city and taking in its sounds and smells and feelings actually feels like it is helping a great deal to readjust. So many things changed so quickly, but a place always seemed to retain its vibe.

When he arrives at the VA there are already a few people hanging around and heading inside. People make use of the cafe all week, especially the veterans, so not all are for the Sexuality and Gender Support Group, or at least Bucky hopes they won’t be. He wonders exactly how many people like him, questioning or out, there actually are in Brooklyn.

At least the environment is a familiar one. The room that the support group takes place in is on the opposite side of the corridor to where the VA meetings happen, and when Bucky steps inside he sees that the size and layout of the room are pretty much identical. That definitely makes things feel more comfortable than has it been somewhere completely different. He hasn’t has many episodes of panic for a while, but unfamiliarity is one of the triggers when it comes to heightening his stress.  The only difference in here, and now that he considers it the anxiety did start to build a little in his chest, is the arrangement of the chairs.

The VA meetings are always conducted with the chairs in rows facing the front. Bucky likes that; it means that everyone’s attention is on the speaker and in order to see anyone else in the meeting it would mean turning around to look at the person behind. It makes eye contact minimal and gives this reassuring feeling of a sense of privacy. However, the chairs in this group are arranged in a circle. The thought makes Bucky’s stomach clench. Circles, at the very end of the stress scale, mean eye contact and at the very top of the scale they mean sharing stories and opinions. It has taken him six weeks to get to that point at the VA meetings and at least in that setting he feels mostly confident on the topic in hand. This currently looks like a living hell.

Several people enter the room as he lingers apprehensively at the doorway. He knows he is in danger of getting stuck in his thoughts and quickly starts on his breathing exercises in order to try to take control of the situation again. When he reaches fifty he tries to think about it in small pieces. The chairs are in a circle, about twenty of them, so it is a smallish group. It is a mixed age group but the majority is definitely in favour of college aged. Just inside the door is a piece of paper and after watching the next person come in and go to the table he realises it is a page of sticky labels for writing your name onto. So it is quite an informal group. Informal meant personal. The next thing he notices makes him do a double take as his eyes finish scanning the room.

Sam Wilson is standing just behind one of the chairs in the circle laughing at something that has obviously been said by the athletic blond man standing next to him who had been at the VA meeting when Bucky had given his speech. He is good with faces generally; social anxiety has that effect, it is a survival instinct to recognise someone as quickly as possible by giving a greater amount of time to calculate avoidance. Despite that though, Bucky feels like the man would have been hard to forget. From an aesthetic point of view he is beautiful and Bucky agrees with his first assessment more than ever now of him definitely not being military, this guy still has fire in his eyes and passion for life, it is obvious to see.

He is pretty certain that Sam hasn’t seen him, but not 100%, and no one else here is likely to care for his presence. He could make the decision to walk out now and try again next week, but did Sam attend this group regularly? If the answer was yes then backing out now isn’t going to help at all and he’d only end up living a whole week with background anxiety bubbling away until the next meeting. Rationality tells him it won’t be so bad to have someone recognise him. Sam is one of the most laid back understanding people he’s come to know; Bucky knows that he won’t be pushed to explain until he is ready and Sam would keep everything confidential. The irrational side of his thoughts are petulantly arguing back saying that it isn’t meant to be like this at all; this is meant to be separate from his military background.

It’s while lost in his thoughts that the other people in the group have taken their places in the circle, including Sam, who has sat down next to his friend. Bucky is surprised no one has come to usher him in properly to join the group and now he knows for sure that any move to join would definitely lead to all eyes on him. At the same time though he realises that if he is being just left to his own devices just inside the door then actually the cause of the anxiety has been removed. It dosn’t make the feeling go away completely, but Bucky makes the decision then to step just inside the doorway and lean up against the wall to listen. It isn’t ideal, but it means he isn’t running away.

Bucky learns two important things in the first five minutes of the group. The first is that Sam’s friend’s name is Steve and he helps to run the group. He is a part-time student and he identifies as bisexual. The second thing he learns is that Sam is there to help Steve out and ‘to be an annoying pain in the ass’ as he had put it himself. He identifies as heterosexual. The session seems to work in a way that whoever wants to introduce themselves can do so and if anyone wants to talk then there are opportunities for that too. It is actually all quite relaxed. There are resources available for people to read, some people split off to have discussions that seem to concern current politics surrounding sexuality and gender equality, and Bucky notices that Steve spends an awful lot of time chatting one to one with people there. Bucky could see even from this distance that he is calm and approachable, so it isn’t a surprise.

He disappoints himself quite early on by losing track of Sam. He doesn’t spot him again until sometime towards the end of the session when he approaches Steve and says something discretely close to his ear.

The meeting wraps up with a run through of when the meetings are held and who would be leading each one over the next couple of weeks. There are two sessions in the week. Tuesday is more of a ‘come and hang out and have a drink and a chat’ type arrangement and Thursday is for actual discussion and introductions.

Bucky chooses then as his moment to make his getaway. He still isn’t sure exactly how many people have paid any attention to him lingering at the back, but he knows that as soon as everyone starts to leave he will for sure not go unnoticed any longer. He also realises that he doesn’t want to cause any trouble by appearing like he is looking for it. He knows what he looks like – leather jacket, long hair, dark eyes where he still isn’t able to sleep enough some nights. One arm or not doesn’t take away from the fact that he probably doesn’t look like he belongs here with a crowd top heavy in college students.

It feels strange not to follow his usual routine of going to the cafe to read flyers and wait for Nat. He almost considers going there anyway, but realises that he doesn’t have that much time to get home if he wants to be in and settled before Nat finishes work. So he makes his way straight out of the building and is vaguely surprised that it is still light outside before getting his bearings and realising that it is still a lot earlier than when VA meetings usually finish. He doesn’t get much further than that thought and a few steps before his attention is grabbed again.

“Hey, excuse me? Wait up?” Bucky looks over his shoulder and freezes when he sees Steve jogging in his direction, shouts clearly aimed at him. He feels the fight or flight reaction pulse through his body and to his shame he can feel a cold sheen of sweat settle over his skin. This is not going the way it is meant to, not at all. Steve has caught up to him now and Bucky realises he isn’t getting out of this.

“Hi. Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. I didn’t mean to catch you unawares,” Steve pauses then and stares at Bucky for a moment, “Are you okay?” Bucky takes a couple of deep breaths.

“Yeah, sure I am. I’m used to big blond guys chasing me down,” he says sarcastically. Steve blushes at that, he actually blushes and rubs at his neck and ducks his gaze from Bucky’s own. It is a small victory for a couple of moments and then Bucky feels guilty, “I’m sorry, pal, sometimes I can get a bit...I wasn’t expecting anyone to come after me. You’re a friend of Sam’s, right?”

Steve looks back up again then and smiles, “It’s okay, no need to apologise and yeah, Sam and I are friends. I’m Steve, by the way, Steve Rogers. I’m one of the support leaders of the group,” he steps a little further into Bucky’s space and holds out his right hand, which Bucky shakes with his own after a beat.

“Bucky Barnes. I thought I’d make a quick getaway.”

“It was a nice try,” Steve grins, “I just wanted to give you our information flyer with the days and times of our sessions for when you decide to come again.”

Bucky takes the flyer, despite already having two at home.

“It can get pretty intense,” Steve says, “when it’s your first time there. I remember my first time; my hands were sweaty, I had already taken all of my asthma medication I am allowed, and I have so many questions running around my head. It does get easier though.”

“My therapist thinks I’m gay,” Bucky says suddenly.

“And what do you think?” Steve replies.

“I don’t really know...I don’t feel much of anything, not anymore. Kinda why I came along,” he says with a shrug.

Steve looks sympathetic. It is a look that Bucky usually hates to see on other people when it concerns him. The last thing he wants from anyone is more sympathy. For some reason though he manages to stop himself from getting cross at the man in front of him. Steve’s expression isn’t the same sort of sympathy he had seen on a daily basis in the hospital. It isn’t the sympathy he sees from ordinary people sometimes when he is just going about his daily business. Those sort of sympathies are what people are trained to think is the appropriate reaction to his disability and it usually seems false and detached. Steve’s sympathy speaks of an understanding that could only come from a mutual struggle. He can forgive him that.

“You know, you can come and sit with the group next time, you don’t need to hang out at the back,” Steve says.

“I know.”

“Okay,” he pauses as if seeing if Bucky has anything else to add but it is pretty clear that the conversation has drawn to a close, “Okay, so maybe I’ll see you on Tuesday then. It’s not a discussion day so you might find it a less intimidating environment.”

Bucky nods, “I’ll give it some thought,” he replies as he turns to walk away.

He only gets a couple of steps before Steve says after him, “By the way, it was really inspiring; the speech you gave at the VA the other week.”

If Bucky smiles a little he tries not to let it show all too much in his voice when he says, “Thanks.”

\--

Sam is leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest when Steve walks back along the corridor of the VA.

“You can wipe that smug look from your face, Wilson.”

Sam holds his hands up in mock defeat, “I ain’t saying anything, man,” and he follows Steve back into the room to start clearing away the chairs and the group’s other resources, “Did you catch up with him?”

“Yeah.”

“Annnnnd,” Sam says with an exaggerated question to his voice.

Steve shrugs, “I think he’ll keep coming back.”

Sam smiles sincerely, “He’s a good kid.”

“I got that impression.”

“He’s been through a lot, Steve, I wouldn’t be too offended if it takes him some time to decide if coming to the group is something he wants. I’ve worked with a lot of ex-military guys that are still trying to find themselves, especially since DADT is repealed.”

“He doesn’t seem like most guys with a military background,” Steve begins, “It seems like there’s so much going on in him...I can’t really explain it. The other week when he spoke at your meeting; he was so eloquent. How is it possible that someone can make something so awful that has happened to them and turn it around and find so many reasons to still be hopeful?”

Sam looks serious as Steve speaks and then grins and hits him playfully in the shoulder, “I feel like I should be offended. Should I be offended, Rogers? Anyone would think you’re saying that us ex-military aren’t capable of being eloquent and beautiful.”

“I didn’t say beautiful.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Steve stops and frowns with thought, “He seems so young. It doesn’t seem fair that he took the time to serve his country and lost so much, and here I am arsing about in college and painting. It’s not right. I should have been making the same sacrifices.”

“Steve, we all know if given half the chance you’d be on the front line of every US Army mission that left these shores, but it turned out that wasn’t your path to take. And people like Bucky? I think that coming back home and meeting good people, like you, it makes it feel like less of a loss and less of a sacrifice. At least that’s what I started to feel when I got out.”

Steve smiles softly, “You’re pretty wise under all that charm, Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you are a sucker for the lost and the broken.”

Steve throws an empty plastic cup at Sam’s head in retaliation.

“Ha, well, I kind of have to be to end up friends with you.”

“Whatever. You love me, I know. I see right through you, Rogers,” and he threw the cup back towards Steve.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky tries not to think too much about the events of Thursday evening. On the walk home he’d somehow managed to work himself into a state of calm where he was able to push it completely to the back of his mind. This was important; he couldn’t have Natasha suspecting anything is even slightly off. As soon as that happened then he was done for because no way would he be able to formulate any suitable explanations that could withstand her ability to tell when he is bullshitting. She wouldn’t push it if he wanted to keep his secrets, but just having her knowing that he has a secret would be enough to have him caving in before he is ready. He really did want to work this out a little bit more on his own first.

It worked out that he got home about thirty minutes before Nat, but he didn’t see much of her. By the time he’d changed and sat down on the couch, the exhaustion of a day outside of his usual routine has caught up with him and he is about ready to call it an early night. Natasha just rolls her eyes at that.

“Your doctor’s told you not to push yourself too hard. How far did you run today?”

“Not far. About five miles,” it isn’t a lie, but five miles isn’t nearly enough to push him recently, but Nat doesn’t need to know that.

“Hmm, well perhaps I’ll take you over to the martial arts centre soon and we can have a sparring session to see where you’re really at,” and to demonstrate her commitment to this she throws a couple of basic attacks his way that he easily blocks, exhausted or not, “I’m off to Clint’s now, so don’t bother about waiting up for me. You should head to bed. I don’t want to have to peel your sorry ass from the couch when I get home.”

The not thinking lasts until Sunday night when he realises that the next day he would be seeing Sam at the VA and if Steve had noticed him at the group then Sam definitely would have too, and if they are as such good friends as Bucky suspects, then he could only fear that at least some discussion has happened about him. It isn’t that he is afraid of what everyone thinks, Sam obviously can’t care any less about how people identify, he is just afraid that any blurring of lines between the places in his life will make things complicated.

He takes out the flyer and reads through the information again. He’d tried to look up some things on the internet but had become quickly overwhelmed by the vast amounts of information available. He hopes his therapist has managed to source some books for him; he always feels much more comfortable with a book. That hasn’t stopped him from making a few notes in his journal about different questions he has. He’s labelled it, rather optimistically he thinks, as ‘things to ask Steve when I feel ready’. It is short so far, but it is a start.

Bucky is relieved but not at all surprised once he’s thought about it rationally, that Sam doesn’t treat him even a hint differently at the meeting in the evening. It leaves a strange feeling inside him come the end of the session, probably brought around by the excess adrenaline floating around his system; his body seems to make a habit of that always being ready for a fight even in the safe places. That’s why, despite all his previous worries, he finds himself hanging around at the end after everyone has gone. He makes a show of helping Sam gather up the flyers that are spread out on the table at the entrance and rolls up the posters that tonight have been raising awareness for signs of dissociation and how it could be a symptom experienced with PTSD.

“Something on your mind?”

That snaps Bucky back to the now. He shakes his head. Sam doesn’t push. Bucky wishes he would.

“Why were you at Steve’s support group the other night?”

Sam doesn’t seem put off by the question, which Bucky realises is because he is expecting it.

“I help out Steve from time to time and occasionally he returns the favour. Besides, I like the company.”

Bucky nods at that and they go back to pottering around each other. When all is finished and Bucky is left just fiddling with the now frayed edge of a flyer about therapy animals, Sam pulls the door closed so it is just them inside the room.

“Okay, tell me to stop if this is out of line, but I get the feeling you want me to say something and I don’t want you heading home thinking I didn’t care enough to notice. Bucky, no one here is going to come at you because of who you are. This is a safe space. The amount of vets I’ve spoken with about sexual identity, especially since DADT was repealed...Man, I’d be writing the list into next year. You don’t need to hide, but you also don’t need to feel like you have to explain yourself to anyone. If it’s going to cause you a problem with seeing me here and seeing me there then I’ll speak to Steve and we can change our arrangements.”

Bucky looks up sharply at that, “You don’t have to do that.”

“But it’s an option if you need it. I understand how difficult it is trying to find order in your life again. You know I’m here to help you where I can, as is Steve. He’s a good kid, I should know, I flat share with him.”

“You always have the right things to say, don’t you pal?”

“It’s all part of the service,” Sam says with a grin, but Bucky knows it is much more than that and he is grateful for it.

\--

The next day Bucky’s therapist has come through with her promise of finding him some reading material about sexual identity. As a result he spends most of the rest of the day reading through them and making notes in his journal. Not all of the notes are questions he wants answers to, but most are. Despite all the information he has at hand though, he doesn’t feel like he has made any revelations about himself. He isn’t sure what he is expecting to find, but there is that hope in the back of his mind about reading a sentence and suddenly realising he isn’t alone. He has to shove away the thought that tells him perhaps he really is just broken after all.

Despite the fact that Steve has said Tuesday support groups are less intimidating, Bucky probably feels more anxious for it. Last week he had no expectations at all and it did, in a way, make it easier; right up until arriving at least, anyway. The walk over to the VA helps dull it a bit, but it is still settled in his stomach as he approaches the room.

The first thing he notices are the chairs aren’t set into the circle like they were on Thursday. Actually, all the chairs are stacked neatly to the side. A lot of people have arrived already and most seem to be gathered around a table that is set up a little further into the room this time and is laid with tea and coffee making supplies and a couple of plates of cookies.

Bucky hangs back at the door just observing the surroundings for a few minutes more. Again, there is a mix of ages and genders, but most definitely representing the college scene. They all seem to have their little groups worked out. That is when he spots Steve. Actually, it is Steve giving him a wave to try to catch his eye that caught his attention. Bucky can’t help but smile at that. He doesn’t like to label people straight off, and he knows that the guy is built like an athletic superstar, but he can’t help his first thought being what an adorable dork he is. He waves back and starts to wander over.

Steve is standing chatting to three other people, but even from a distance Bucky has been able to tell they don’t look especially threatening in any way.

“Hey!” Steve says, “I’m glad you made it.”

“Guess it won’t be that easy to keep me away. You might regret that.”

Steve smiles warmly at him and Bucky feels the earlier anxiety almost completely melt away.

“I doubt that very much.”

The other three who have been standing with Steve have drifted off into different conversations and Bucky feels the slight pull of guilt in the back of his stomach.

“I think I might be scaring your friends away.”

Steve has the nerve to look confused for a moment and Bucky decides then that adorable dork is probably a pretty accurate assessment after all.

“It’s alright, Steve, I’m just messing.”

“I don’t think there’s much scary about you to be honest.”

Bucky shrugs, “I might have to try harder next time then,” he grins.

 In truth he has spent a bit more time than perhaps is normal trying to work out what to wear this time. It wasn’t that he made the conscious decision to wear mostly black last time; he guesses it was just some sort of subliminal camouflage attempt from the back of his mind. So today he has on a green hoodie, with the left sleeve pinned up to his shoulder, and a pair of pale blue jeans that are fashionably ripped at the knees (at least that’s how Nat had described them when they’d been out shopping), and he’d scraped most of his long hair back into a small messy bun. Maybe it is time to think about getting it cut. He’d have to talk with Nat about that.

The rest of the hour goes by pretty quickly. He spends most of the time hovering by the table just observing everyone else, occasionally exchanging small talk with Steve and a few others in the group. It is pretty relaxed and at no point does he feel especially overwhelmed. (There is one particular moment that he reflects could have been pretty bad if it wasn’t for the hilarity of what follows.)

A kid of about eighteen, maybe a year or two older, as if noticing Bucky for the first time, shouts clear across the room.

“Shit, dude! What happened to your arm?” He’d starts to make his way over to Bucky but his friend stops him pretty quickly with a rather firm whack upside the head.

“Wade! You can’t just go around asking people what’s happened to their arm!”

“Oh come on, Parker, I didn’t mean any harm. Besides, the dude looks badass, it’s probably an exciting story.”

Bucky isn’t quite sure what to do then. Fortunately Steve steps in and pulls the two aside. Bucky can’t hear what he is saying but it must be pretty effective because they go back pretty quickly to what they were doing before the distraction of his arm, or lack of, had caught their attention.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve says, and damn, did he have to look so genuinely apologetic?

“It’s okay. You know, I would have dealt with it. I’m not so broken that I can’t deal with hyperactive teenagers.”

Steve blushes, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Hey, no, I appreciate whatever you said to them.” He quickly tries to think of something to draw the attention away from the awkwardness he can feel slowly building, “So, are they always that loud?”

“Oh, that’s pretty sedate for them. They’ve been worse. I’ve got pretty good at keeping them in line though.”

“Well I’m at least grateful of that.”

In the end the evening is less about discussing anything to do with sexuality, and more just about hanging out. On the way home Bucky realises he’d actually had a pretty good time. It is the first good time he’s had with anyone other than Nat since before he’d left for Afghanistan.

\--

Unfortunately things don’t stay on that same upward hill. The next meeting at the VA is a rough one. Bucky knew it was coming up; Sam always makes sure to have details of particular topics made clear several meetings in advance. Bucky genuinely thinks he will be okay because he’s been doing so well so far since moving back to Brooklyn. Yeah, it has only been six weeks on paper, but six weeks is a hell of a long time to go with only a couple of major episodes.

The topic is about reconnecting with family after being away on duty, and talking with them about injury (both physical and mental) sustained while in service. Bucky is sure he’d disappeared into his head just under half way through. It causes such a numbness inside that trying to think about it just creates a black void in his mind where he just can’t access the memories he is looking for. It is probably for the best; it would only hurt too much.

To make it worse he decides to walk home.

It is damp and dark and he is only slightly aware of the dull ache in his left shoulder where the cold starts to seep through his hoodie and irritate the scarred and mottled flesh. He is vaguely aware of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket, but it seems too far away. He doesn’t answer it.

Bucky fumbles with the keycode when he gets to his apartment building. His fingers feels big and useless from the cold that has numbed them and he is becoming more aware of the pain stretching from his shoulder, across his neck and into his other arm. He winces when he pushes at the door and drags himself inside.

“James? Is that you?”

The first thing he thinks is ‘of course it’s me, who else lives here?’ but then his mind starts to catch up and he registers the slight tone of concern in Nat’s voice.

She comes running through from the lounge before he can process anything else, like about what time is it? And why isn’t Nat still at work? She looks like she is about ready to yell at him and he can’t understand why. Instead he feels himself being pulled into the lounge and pushed down onto the couch.

“Jesus fucking Christ, James,” he hears Nat curse before she leaves the room again only to return quickly after with a large towel in her hands.

“Dry your hair then pull off that hoodie before you make yourself sick,” she throws the towel at him and he starts to softly rub at his hair. When he looks down he suddenly realises how soaked through he is. At least that explains the pain and cold in his shoulder.

“Do I need to call anyone?” Nat asks, and although she tries to sound just frustrated, Bucky can hear the worry in her voice; it is worry he’s put there he suddenly thinks, guiltily. The guilt pushes insistently in his mind as more awareness starts to come back to him. He shakes his head in response to the question, but he can tell that Nat isn’t entirely convinced.

“I’m okay,” he swallows thickly when the words get partly stuck in his throat, “I just got lost in my head for a while. Honestly, I’m okay.” He pulls the hoodie off over his head and throws it on the floor.

“I went to meet you and when you didn’t come out after a while, I decided to go look for you. When I couldn’t find you I rang the number for Sam from one of the information sheets and he said he’d seen you leave straight after the meeting finished. I thought fine, you’d walked home, it isn’t a big deal. Then I get here and you aren’t back yet. I didn’t try to call you straight away, but when I did you didn’t answer.”

“I’m sorry, Natasha.”

“Don’t apologise to me, James, I know this isn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Natasha sighs, “Look, go take a shower and warm up, you’re shaking and you’re dripping all over the floor. We’ll talk after.”

She holds a hand out to help him off the couch and Bucky can feel her eyes follow him as he makes it to the bathroom. He takes his phone from his jeans pocket and sees the missed calls waiting for him as well as a text message from Nat asking where he is. He also sees the time; two hours since the meeting had ended. No wonder Nat has worried; now he feels like an even bigger asshole.

He doesn’t really want to remove his t-shirt, knowing the state he would probably find his left shoulder in. He doesn’t want to see it like that. Judging from the pain, whether it be all physical or partially  psychological, he can’t tell, he can already imagine the redness of the scar tissue and the purple-red mottling of the skin where it has been irritated by the cold and the rub of his damp clothes. He can trace the lines of pain across from the shoulder to his neck and he knows that the mottling probably spread all across, making his skin look sick and painful. He can’t look at that right now; just imagining it causes flashes of memory in the back of his mind that he tries to flinch away from as soon as they appear.

Bucky turns on the shower and heats it until it is just the right side of hot not to cause anymore damage. He turns away from the mirror above the washbasin and shuts his eyes, before pulling the t-shirt over his head quickly and stepping under the spray. The burn on his cold skin hurts to begin with, but it soon starts to ease as the heat soaks through his skin and envelopes his body making him relax back under the spray.

After he’s dried and has pulled on a clean pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, he heads back out into the lounge to find Nat. She is curled on the couch with the laptop open and resting on her knees.

“Speak of the devil,” Nat says to the screen, and Bucky realises she is probably having video chat with Clint.

“Is that Bucky? Hey, bro!” he hears from the speakers.

“Hey, Clint.”

“How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, can’t complain really.” Bucky sees Nat roll her eyes, but he chooses to ignore it, “How’s things your end?”

“Oh, ya know, pretty much the same.”

“Okay Clint, I’ve got to go now. James and I have a conversation to be having. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, laters, guys!”

Nat closes the lid of the laptop and places it on the table, before turning full body to look at Bucky.

“I said I’m Sorry, Nat.”

“And I told you not to apologise for things you can’t help, but something obviously upset you to trigger a state like that. I’m not asking you to talk to me about it now; I’m just giving you the option to if you feel like it.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He hates this. He knows she is right and he knows that she would go with whatever he decides to do without fighting it, but he feels like he owes some explanation even if he isn’t really able to process feelings into words about what has truly bothered him.

“It was about family,” he said simply, “And reconnecting. I thought I’d be okay but I obviously wasn’t. It was nothing bigger than that.”

“Okay,” Nat says.

“I miss Becca,” he says quietly.

“Maybe you could make it one of your aims to call her.”

“Maybe. I just don’t think I can do this to her,” he says while gesturing at himself and what he’d become, “I’m not the person she knew as her brother anymore.”

When neither speak again for a few minutes after, Bucky decides the best thing to do would just be to try to get some sleep and hit the restart button again tomorrow. As incidents go, this wasn’t his worse and hopefully things would fall back into place in the morning.

\--

On Thursday he makes the decision not to get out of bed for anything. He needs a day just to sleep and not think. It is okay to have days like that; he’d lost count of how many therapists have tried to reassure him that recovery isn’t all about getting there in the fastest time, sometimes it is about realising when to slow down.

He eventually makes it to the shower just after 3pm, when he finds he can no longer sleep or doze, and his thoughts start edging into that negative territory where they are all about being too stupid to realise that anything could ever really get better, it is all just band aids on gaping wounds. That can fuck off, he thinks; he isn’t prepared to go back there.

It isn’t until after taking his shower and then finding something to eat that he remembers that it is support group day. He has no way of contacting Steve to let him know that he won’t be coming along; that would just be a dumbass move after last night. Besides, it is still wet and cold outside and he has a hospital appointment to go to tomorrow about his arm and he doesn’t want to jeopardise that by irritating it further. He hopes Steve won’t think much of it; he probably won’t even notice.


	3. Chapter 3

The hospital is a 30 minute journey across town by bus. This is only his fourth time making the trip, but it is easy enough. Bucky would often make his way to the back of the bus after getting on board and with any luck everyone would leave him alone for the journey. It is easy to stay in the shadows when he wants to.

The bus station is a short walk from his apartment building. It is a much easier substitute than the five mile run he would be doing if it wasn’t for the appointment. Fortunately the weather has turned brighter, but the chill of autumn has followed the rain. Bucky almost feels tempted to jog to the station, but thinks better of it under the hoodie and jacket he’d thrown on before leaving the house. The last thing he wants is to be covered in a somewhat cold sweat after getting to the hospital, especially when an appointment always means stripping off all top layers of clothing.

Bucky knows he is on time, he definitely knows. So when he sees the bus that he should be on pulling away from the stop, his heart jumps and then plummets into his stomach. His reaction to run after it kicks in before anything else does. These buses only go that route every half hour, so he can’t afford to miss it. How the hell has he even missed it?

“Wait! Wait, stop!” he shouts between breaths, and tries to wave to signal to the bus driver, but despite his best efforts the driver either doesn’t see or is too much of an asshole to care; he won’t have been the first.

“Fuck,” he breathes as he slows to a stop, “Fuckity fucking fuck,” he kicks a trash can across the sidewalk before turning to hit his fist against a wall. He lets his body slump and starts on counting his breaths. This didn’t need to be any worse than it already was.

After five minutes he realises his only option is to try to get through on the phone to Nat, but he can’t really see how that would help. She’s half way across town and even if she could get away right now there is very little chance he’d make the appointment on time.

He’s about to take out his phone and call her when his attention is caught by shouting. Someone is shouting his name. He hasn’t even heard a car pull up, too busy being locked into his brain noise.

“Hey, Bucky, you need a lift anywhere?”

Bucky pushes himself up from the ground and feels as some of the frustration of the last five minutes begins to leave his body in a wave of relief. It is Steve. Steve in a little blue rust bucket of a car, but it might as well have been a golden charity for all Bucky cared right now. He can’t help but smile a little.

“Hey Steve.”

“Are you okay?”

Bucky shrugs, “Missed my bus. It was kind of important that I got that one.”

He watches as Steve leans over across the passenger seat and unlocks the door, “Jump in, I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

“What if I’m going across state?”

“Then you wouldn’t be taking the bus. Now jump in.”

Bucky did. It isn’t the most spacious of cars, but it is tidy and it smells clean; definitely so much better than the bus. He takes note of the little smiley face air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror; definitely another thing to add to the adorable and dorky list.

“So, where are you going to? And please don’t say you’re really going across state because then I’d look like a jerk.”

Bucky laughs, “I’m going to the hospital, actually. I have an appointment. Arm stuff,” and he hopes the vague gesture to his left would explain everything else, “It’s about a fifteen minute drive from here, but if it’s out of your way then I can just call the hospital and change the appointment.”

Steve shakes his head, “It’s the one by the docks, right? It’s no problem, I can get you there. I have a class in forty-five minutes so it just means I’ll probably be skipping the stop for coffee before I head in.”

“Well now I feel really guilty!”

“Don’t be! My body is probably thanking you. I really should start cutting back, I’ll just take this as my sign,” Bucky watches as Steve grins, and then the car is started again with a full body rattle back to life.

“It doesn’t much like the sudden change in temperature,” Steve explains, “Unfortunately, neither do my lungs, so the bike is out of the question too this morning.”

“You own a motorcycle?”

“Sure do. A Harley-Davidson.”

“That’s pretty awesome. I used to want to get a bike, but my sister was never a fan of that idea. Of course she wasn’t much of a fan of me joining the army either and I didn’t listen to her then.”

He’d said it to be taken as humour, but he sees Steve’s finger’s shift restlessly on the steering wheel as he struggles with where to go from there. Bucky feels bad.

They drive in silence for a couple of minutes before Steve asks if Bucky minded him turning on the radio. Bucky says it’s Steve’s car, he is just glad for the ride, but he definitely didn’t mind some music.

“You weren’t at group yesterday,” Steve says, after a few minutes of just listening to the songs.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, uncertainly, “I had other things on and with the appointment today...I sort of wanted to be prepared.”

He could see Steve trying to look at him from the corner of his eye, probably trying to work out how much he could push for, instead he dropped it with the same understanding he usually only got from Sam or Nat.

“It’s okay, as I said before, you don’t need to come along all the time. I just worried that maybe we’d scared you off on Tuesday.”

“No, definitely not! I actually had a really good time on Tuesday. It was a lot of fun.”

Steve seemed reassured by that and Bucky went back to staring out of the window, only occasionally glancing over when he heard Steve singing along to a song on the radio.

Bucky started to give directions when they are a few minutes away, but Steve seemed pretty familiar with the route anyway, so he stopped. It isn’t until they are almost there that either of them speak again.

“I was thinking,” Steve starts, “I know it can be tough trying to fit back into a city when you’ve been away for a while. If, ya know, wanted to hang out sometime and play video games or watch a movie, well, I have a lot of free time between classes and I don’t have a job to go out to because I work from home. It’s just an idea.”

“Are you sure, because I might actually take you up on that.”

“Well, Sam is out of the house a lot in the day, so the flat can get pretty quiet.”

Even if he didn’t actually like the idea of hanging out with someone new and playing video games and watching movies, Bucky is pretty sure he’d have a hard time saying no to Steve after he’d asked like that. He pulls out his phone, an old receipt (or whatever it is), and a pen, and found his number to scribble as neatly as he can with one hand in a moving vehicle, and tucks it into the cassette player of the car stereo.

“If you text me then I’ll have your number too.”

He tries not to stare too much when Steve spends the last few minutes of the journey smiling. It almost makes him forget where he’s going and the pain that he’s probably soon going to go through again.

Bucky jumps out quickly when Steve pulls up.

“You think you might still make it to school in time for your coffee?”

“Probably not, but it’s okay. If you wanted, I could swing by after class and give you a ride home.”

“It’s okay, my friend, Nat, is getting me after she finishes work.”

“Okay.”

He shrugs, “I might not be the best company in a few hours time.”

“I hope it goes okay.”

“Thanks.”

Bucky doesn’t stand to watch as Steve drives away. He’d already shoved his right hand as deep in to his jacket pocket as it could go and he can feel the tension starting to build in his shoulders. The drive had been a nice distraction, but it was fading pretty quickly with the hospital looming over him now.

\--

Nat is waiting for him when he comes out from his appointment. As much as he tries not to look like he is in pain, he knows his body language is off and there isn’t much more he can do to hide it. He can still feel the nerves burning from his shoulder all the way across to his other arm and even down into his back. He can feel himself leaning more heavily on his right in what is a natural defence of trying to escape the pain.

He can’t even bring himself to smile as he climbs into the car.

“How did it go?” Nat asks.

“S’okay,” Bucky mumbles, and then spends the journey home just staring blankly out of the window. Natasha doesn’t push for anymore from him.

\--

Sam is already home and collapsed out on the couch watching some crap reality show when Steve gets home from college.

“Hey, Sam, good day?” he asks as he wanders through the apartment and unloads his sketchbook and pencils onto his desk and boots his laptop into life.

Sam sits up and stares at Steve like he is trying to work something out.

“What?”

“Why are you so happy?” Sam asks, suspiciously.

“What do you mean, I’m no more happy than usual,” but Steve hated that he could already feel the heat of a blush crawling up his neck. He’s aware that his poker face is pitiful.

At that, Sam gets up on his knees and leans over the back of the couch, pinning Steve back into his workspace area with his stare and the grin on his face that lets Steve know he’s not going to get out of this now.

“Alright, out with it, Rogers. I love ya, but you’re shit at this secrecy thing. What’s got you so happy, because whatever it is I am happy for you, man, and I just want to share in your joy.”

Steve fiddles restlessly with a few marker pens that roll loosely on the desk, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You skipped through the door!” Sam says, a tone of exasperation coming into his voice.

“I did not!”

“It was like you had wings.”

“Shut up!” Steve says with a whine as he turns to look back at Sam. That is a bad move in itself. Sam makes an exaggerated effort of crossing his arms on the back of the couch and then raises his eyebrows as if to say he has all evening for this and he knows Steve is going to crack, so why not get it over with quickly.

Steve throws his hands up in the air in defeat, “Fine! Okay! So, Bucky might be coming to hang out, that’s all.”

“That was way too easy, Steve, even by your standards,” Sam says with a grin.

Steve sits himself down heavily in the space next to him on the couch, making the other man nearly lose his balance and fall sideways into the arm. He would have told Sam anyway, but he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. He just isn’t very good at not making a big deal out of things like this though.

The truth is, he did like Bucky, straight away just listening to him speak at the VA Steve is attracted, and not just to his looks (and he’d definitely noticed those too; Bucky is beautiful, he is worn and weathered and Steve knew that somewhere behind that half smile that makes his heart clench is a smile that would make him melt,) it is everything else too. Steve had pretty much frozen when he’d spotted Bucky at the back of the sexuality support group for the first time and he still couldn’t quite believe that he’d had the nerve to chase him down afterwards. It had been a good decision though. Chatting to Bucky on Tuesday evening at the group had felt easy and nice, and Steve realises afterwards that for the first time he actually felt like he had someone there he could get to know as a proper friend and not just as an older brother figure or mentor as he is to the many younger members of the group.

Sam breaks through Steve’s thoughts after a few minutes of silence, except for the drone of the TV in the background, “So, when’s he stopping by.”

Steve shrugs, “I have to text him. He wrote his number down before I dropped him off this morning.” He goes on to explain that Bucky had missed his bus and Steve just happened to spot him as he was driving through, “He seemed okay during the journey, but he sort of shut off once he got to the hospital. I got the feeling that whatever he was going in for wasn’t going to be easy.”

Sam hums in agreement.

“I’ll message him later.”

“Just be careful, Steve,” Sam says softly.

“He’s a good guy, Sam, you said that.”

“He is and I did, but I know you. You wear your heart on your sleeve; make sure you look after it. Other than that, it’s good that you’ll finally have a friend to put up with you other than me.”

Steve shoved Sam in the shoulder for that and then smiled, “Not sure how I put up with you to be honest.”

\--

Later that evening Steve sends Bucky a message. He keeps it pretty short and doesn’t mention anything again yet about meeting up.

_‘Hey Bucky. I hope your appointment went okay. Steve Rogers.’_

There is still no reply when he finally calls it a night and goes to bed at just past 1am.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky wakes up with a grimace. His upper body feels like he’s been hit by a truck. He can’t really remember much about anything after Nat picked him up from the hospital. He was exhausted. He vaguely remembers Natasha making him take some painkillers before he took himself off to bed. It couldn’t have been any later than two in the afternoon.

When he manages to force his eyes open and rolls over to check the time on his phone, he isn’t surprised to see it is already nearly midday. He also has two text messages. One is from Natasha saying she’s left painkillers and a fresh glass of water on his bedside table before heading off for her morning classes. Bucky grabs the water and swallows down the pills before he reads the next message. It’s from Steve, and it takes Bucky a couple of minutes to recap the situation that has lead to Steve having his number. When he’s sure he’s got it all straight, he quickly taps out a reply, noticing that Steve had sent the message yesterday evening when Bucky was already in a pretty deep sleep.

_‘Hey Steve. Sorry I only just read your text now. I’m okay. Just tired...Bucky.’_

He lies back down and closes his eyes again before the buzz of his phone not 5 minutes later notifies him to another message.

_‘I’m glad you’re okay : ) I know you said you’re tired but if you wanted to come round this afternoon the offer of movies and video games still stands.’_

Bucky thinks this over for a few minutes. He isn’t in too much pain anymore; nothing that he can’t handle once the painkillers kick in and he gets his body moving again. It’s a Saturday, so Nat would probably be round at Clint’s after work which means Bucky would probably spend most of the day either sleeping or staring at the walls while trying to find something decent to watch on Netflix. There isn’t much hope in trying to do any training today; he isn’t that stupid.

_‘I might actually still be in bed right now. Give me a couple of hours to get myself organised and I’ll be over?’_

This time the reply is almost instant.

_‘Sounds great : )’_

Before Bucky can make a decision about if that needed a reply or not, Steve sends another message with his address. Bucky knows the area; it’s only a ten minute walk away from his own block. That gives him a full two hours to take a shower, eat something decent, and maybe do a few of his physiotherapy exercises that he is meant to do after an appointment.

\--

Bucky arrives at Steve’s place a little after 2pm. He takes a small detour to pick something up on his way over, but otherwise makes good time. He’d sent a message to Natasha to say he was going out and didn’t know what time he would be back. Moments later, he’d got a charming reply back informing him that Clint’s feelings were hurt; he thought he was Bucky’s only friend. Bucky had smiled before shoving his phone into his pocket, but on the walk over he’d realised that actually if he didn’t manage to fuck things up completely in the next few hours, then Steve would be the first friend he’d made since getting out of the army.

After dwelling on this for a short time, he decided he didn’t really know how that makes him feel. When he was with his unit they’d become his family and his friends, but now they are all either still in Afghanistan, in another US State, or dead. Natasha was his friend in college and the only person he knew who is still in Brooklyn; Clint is his friend by default. These eight weeks back in Brooklyn have been the first chance he’s had to get out and try to form other normal relationships. He tries to give himself some credit for that, it is just still difficult to accept that things take time.

Steve takes a little time to answer when Bucky buzzes at the main entrance to the building.

“Bucky?” asked the tinny voice through the intercom.

“The one and only.”

“Come on up.” The door gives a clonk as the locks come undone and Bucky lets himself in. Steve’s place is on the third floor and when Bucky gets to the level the door is already open and Steve is standing there with a smile on his face.

“I always hate the awkward looking around for the door number part, so I thought I’d let you off.”

“Well, you know, what with all of two doors to check I could easily have gotten lost,” Bucky says dryly, and he watches as Steve internally chastises himself for that.

“I don’t know if I should let you in now. I don’t think this apartment needs anymore sarcastic jerks.”

Bucky chooses that moment to hold out a paper bag in his hand, “What about sarcastic jerks who bring coffee? I’m sorry you had to go to class without your caffeine fix yesterday.”

Steve’s face drops as he takes the bag and for a moment Bucky thinks he might have already fucked up, but then Steve looks up at him and gives him the most genuine appreciative smile Bucky has probably seen in his life and it makes him wonder just how often Steve has been on the end of any sort of kindness.

“Well, I guess I have to let you in now,” he says after a beat.

The apartment is pretty similar to the one he shares with Nat. The main living space is perhaps a bit larger, but the layout is pretty much the same with the open plan kitchen and lounge. The style is definitely a bit different though. Natasha prefers to have nothing up on the walls. Bucky had insisted on having at least one cliché landscape painting just above the TV when he’d first moved in because the blank space reminded him too much of the overly clinical rooms he’d spent the past eleven months in. Steve’s lounge, however, is covered in different posters and paintings.

“The posters are really cool,” Bucky says as he starts to wander further into the room for a better look.

“Thanks. Most of them are my additions to the apartment, but Sam’s is the Batman one.”

“I’ve never been much of a fan of Batman,” Bucky says casually as he wanders over to a bookcase in the corner, “You’re really into sci-fi and comics, huh?”

Steve follows Bucky across the room and stands a couple of paces behind him, “Without wanting to sound like a total dork, I really like the art.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I used to read a lot of comics before I shipped out. I still have no idea how one person can have enough talent to be a comic book artist.”

“It just takes a lot of practice.”

“That sounds like you speak from experience. Do you draw?”

“A little,” Steve says, “I study fine art and illustration at college, but I do some freelance work when I’m not there.”

Bucky makes no effort to hide that he is impressed, “Okay, that is really cool! You can’t just say that and then not show me some of your stuff.”

He watches then as Steve mentally and almost physically seems to shrink in on himself. It amazes him how someone who seems so ready to take on the world from the outside could be so insecure on the inside.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s alright,” he gets up and walks over to his workspace and pulls out a portfolio, “These are just some comic art commissions I’ve done during the last six months. Don’t laugh.”

Bucky takes the portfolio and turns the pages to look through the drawings inside. He isn’t sure what he is expecting, but he can’t help it when his mouth automatically opens slightly in awe. The work is beautiful, it really is. It isn’t just the characters that looked perfect, but the backgrounds are stunning too. Some are all digital prints, others are done using paints (Bucky is no artist, he can’t tell the difference from one paint to the next), but they are all stunning.

“Please tell me you are submitting these to comic companies. These are amazing!”

Steve shrugs, “They’re nothing special really.”

“Are you serious? Give yourself some credit. Some of these would have professionals crying in fear for their jobs.”

“I somehow feel like I won’t win this argument, so I guess if it means I can have a quiet afternoon then maybe I could say they’re not bad.”

Bucky leans over and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s in retaliation to his obliviousness of his talent, “You’re a punk. I’m not accepting that. If we’re gonna be pals then I’m going to make it my mission for you to be a bit louder about your talents.”

“I am loud,” Steve says indignantly, “I just go about it quietly.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and goes to sit down on the couch. Steve joins him.

“Do you draw anything else?”

“Well, I’m kind of interested in tattoo art, so I’ve done a few designs but nothing too extravagant.”

“Seriously? I have a few tattoos. Nothing too extreme, though,” and before he can really think through exactly what he is doing, he is pulling his right arm free from the sleeve of his black hoodie and holding it out for Steve to see. First he points to a black outline of a star on the outside of his wrist, “This one I got when I first enlisted, and this is one of my favourite quotes from a novel I read when I was in college.”

“’To the end of the line,’” Steve reads. Bucky shrugs in response.

“Then there’s this one,” he says as he pulls his t-shirt sleeve up to reveal a simple stencil design of a wing, “And lastly the one on my neck; 107th, my regiment. I, erm...I did have more, but they were on my left arm.”

Until that point Steve had looked like he was going to say something about Bucky’s enthusiasm for his tattoos, but he’d obviously let the thought slide when Bucky had struggled to the end of his explanation. It surprises Bucky then, when Steve’s hand rests gently on his arm and moves it to get a better look at each of the separate inkings.

“Have you ever thought of getting anymore?” he asks.

Bucky slips back quickly from the melancholy thoughts of what he’d lost, and turns on his best grin, “Well, I might have to now I know an artist.”

\--

“Should I put a film on?” Steve asks after a few minutes of sitting in silence and taking sips of their takeaway coffee.

“Sure.”

“Anything I should avoid?”

Bucky realises Steve is asking him if there is anything that is likely to trigger him. It is hard to say; he hasn’t watched too many films recently, “Erm, I think I’m okay with most things. Just as long as it’s not something with graphic depictions of warfare, then I think I’ll be okay.”

Steve shoves a disc in and then settles back onto the couch with a thud.

Bucky fidgets a bit until he is comfortable and sits back, “If I fall asleep then just nudge me or something.”

“I won’t mind if you fall asleep,” Steve says quietly.

“Yeah, well, I will. You invited me over so I at least want to try to be company worth having.”

\--

The film is pretty short and Bucky doesn’t fall asleep. He actually really enjoys the plot and feels more awake now than he did when he’d arrived. He’d seen Steve try to sneak little glances over at him every twenty minutes or so. He isn’t quite sure if that was to check he was still awake or if it was from some sort of anxiety to make sure Bucky was enjoying the movie.

When the credits finish rolling, Steve turns his attention back to Bucky, “I could put another one in if you want?”

“Think I kinda need a break or otherwise I’ll just get too comfortable here.”

Steve laughs, “Okay, well I’ll get you another drink then. I’ve got coffee, juice, cola..”

“Without wanting to sound like a health freak, some water would be perfect right now.”

\--

They spend the rest of the afternoon watching episodes of Game of Thrones. Steve has seen all the episodes several times already, but he’d reassured Bucky that he didn’t mind watching it again. In between episodes Steve chats a little about what is going on and the characters he likes and doesn’t like. Bucky is quite happy to listen to him. The longer he stays the more at ease he feels in his surroundings and with Steve’s company. It’s strange but he feels like he’s known Steve for a hell of a lot longer than he has. They’d obviously had pretty different adult lives so far, but Bucky didn’t want to think he’d imagined the pull between them, as if they are made of a similar design but had just been taken in different directions. It is strange, but not altogether unsettling.

They’d just finished watching the fourth episode when Sam arrives home. He switches on the lights when he comes into the room. Bucky hasn’t really even noticed it get dark outside.

“Hi Sam,” Steve says. Sam wanderes further into the room and throws down his things next to the couch.

“You better not be watching Game of Thrones without me!”

“Only the first season. Bucky hasn’t watched any before.”

“Okay, I’ll let you off then.”

Bucky stands up from the couch then, suddenly feeling like he’s out stayed his welcome, “Actually, I should probably get going now. You know, I didn’t even realise it had gotten dark.”

Steve stands up too, “I’m hoping that’s a good sign.”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Besides, I’ve got a lot of Game of Thrones to watch now. You’ve sucked me in with four episodes; I’m emotionally invested now. If Arya dies then I’ll never forgive you.”

“Do you need a ride home?” Steve asks as he follows Bucky to the door.

“Nah, s’okay. It’ll only take me ten minutes to walk home.” He doesn’t think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on Steve’s face as he turns him down, but it doesn’t last long so maybe he did.

“Okay, I’ll see you around then,” Steve says, holding his hand out for Bucky to shake.

“See ya later Steve.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Nat, I don’t think I’m straight.”

That’s how Sunday morning begins two weeks after the first time Bucky had spent the afternoon at Steve’s.

“Okay.”

Bucky stares at her. He’d spent the past two hours repeatedly counting his breaths to one hundred and trying not to throw up from the anxiety that is turning his stomach over just building up to this.

“Is that it? Just, okay?”

“What else do you want me to say? I always had my suspicions. I’m pretty sure you sucked as much cock in college as you kissed women.”

Bucky swallows hard. College was a long time ago. He didn’t feel like that guy anymore, hardly at all. Back then he had confidence and a much better ability at playing a role he felt assigned to. He feels too old and worn for that now; he just wants to find himself.

“I’ve been going to a support group to try and work some things out. It’s been pretty good for me, I think.”

“Is that where you met Steve?” Bucky frowns at that.

“How do you know Steve?”

“I read your text messages the other day while you were sleeping on the couch. He seems nice. Clint is definitely jealous now you have a best friend other than him.”

Bucky mentally stammers over a response to that. All the torture he’d put himself through building up to this talk and Nat probably has more worked out than he does right now.

“Before you get all irrational and yell at me,” Nat begins, “I had genuine concerns. You’d been way happier than I’d seen you in weeks, and I mean proper happy, not just driven by your obsession to be well again.”

“And being happy is something to be concerned about now? Fuck, Natasha.”

“No, it’s not! But you weren’t telling me anything and I was worried, because I know from experience that after an unexplained high there almost always comes a low and I wanted to make sure I was ready for that fallout.”

Bucky doesn’t say much for a while. He doesn’t really know what to say to that. He’s known Natasha for years now and yet she keeps things so close to her chest that every now and again something slips out and he has to reassess everything he thought he knew about her.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, although he isn’t altogether sure which part he is apologising for this time.

“What have I told you about apologising? You definitely don’t need to be sorry for being happy. I’m glad that you’re making the progress that you wanted to.”

\--

The rest of the month of October goes by quickly. Bucky fills in the gaps between VA meetings, therapy, and work outs with hours spent sitting on Steve’s couch watching Game of Thrones or whatever new obscure movie Steve has got hold of. Occasionally Sam joins them. It takes Bucky a while to accept that blurring of the lines between the different areas of his life; he’d actually confessed about this to Steve pretty early into their little routine. Of course Steve didn’t criticise or judge him for it; he’d just blinked at Bucky in his confused little way and then offered any help he could in making it easier for Bucky to adjust.

At some point Bucky notices that Steve has started to relax a bit more around him too. He’d been so caught up in his own background anxiety of trying to carry a normal friendship, that he hadn’t given much thought to Steve perhaps feeling the same. After a while he notices that the little touches and moments of contact between them have increased in number. Steve had originally initiated these, but Bucky finds himself seeking it out more and more as if the small moments of contact are the drug he has been looking for to keep himself grounded.

The only thing that is still bothering Bucky is his place within the support group. Everyone had made him feel welcome. No one pressures him into revealing anything or talking about anything that he isn’t ready to. Steve goes out of his way to include him alongside the others in discussions, even if Bucky chooses just to listen most of the time. Yet there is a persistent nagging in the back of his mind that makes him feel like a fraud.

He brings it up at his next therapy appointment.

“I don’t know if I belong there. Everyone’s giving me so much time and support, but I feel like I’m wasting it.”

“Are you still questioning your identity?”

“Yeah, but everyone else has it all worked out. I’m just starting to think that maybe I am just broken and that I’m wasting everyone’s time at the group.”

“I would suggest that if they felt that way about you then you probably wouldn’t have formed as many friendships as you have done these past few weeks. Steve doesn’t seem to have the same concerns about you.”

“Steve is a really good person,” Bucky mumbles.

“Well, maybe it would help to talk to Steve alone about how you’re feeling.”

\--

Bucky spends a while thinking over what his therapist has said and makes the decision that he would speak to Steve about it. He’d makes up several arguments with himself about why he doesn’t really want to though. One is that he doesn’t want any outcome to jeopardise the easy friendship they’ve already built up during the few weeks since they met. The second is that he doesn’t want to come across like he’s using Steve, just like everyone else seems to. That doesn’t really make sense at all, because Steve has already told Bucky that he loves to help run the support group and give guidance to those who come along; he likes helping people. Still, the thought of being a burden still crosses Bucky’s mind.

He can’t meet with Steve the next day because he has to be at the VA in the evening and Steve has classes most of the day. Since Bucky told Nat about where he’d been going off to on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s it means he no longer has to be covert about coming and going, so he’s taken to walking to Steve’s and they drive on from there to the VA centre for the group.

Despite already making the decision to head over to Steve’s early, Bucky doesn’t actually make the move to contact him and check if it is all okay. The more he dwells on it the more he realises he will procrastinate it right up until the final minute. The ridiculous thing is that Bucky knows he will still go through with it because the anxiety built up from thinking about it is all too much to sleep on any longer. It is something he has to deal with now he’s built up to it or he’s going to make himself ill; something he really doesn’t want.

He makes sure to get himself ready, even in jacket and boots, so that he can just leave the apartment without time to think and back out. He eventually sends the message just after 1pm when he is literally almost out of the front door.

_‘Hey Steve. Is it okay if I come by now? I need to talk to you.’_

His phone buzzes within a couple of minutes to notify him of the reply.

_‘Sure, I’m here...Are you okay?’_

_‘Yeah I’m fine. I’ll explain later.  Not really text message conversation. I’m leaving now.’_

Steve doesn’t reply again after that. Bucky hopes he hasn’t interrupted his work. He has no idea how Steve manages to juggle everything in his life and not fall down flat from exhaustion. Steve doesn’t have too many classes, but he actually has a lot more freelance work at home to do than he lets on. On top of that is the coursework, and then running the support group, which he seems to do pretty much on his own now. Apparently there used to be someone else, but they’re now working full time and no longer have the spare hours to commit regularly. It had taken Steve several attempts of explaining to Bucky that he actually isn’t in his way when he comes round and that he actually likes the break away from the routine of his life.

The weather can definitely be described as cold in Brooklyn now. It’s still only October and Bucky already feels the need to turn up the collar of his jacket against the cold. The last time he remembers it getting cold this early they had snow before it even reached December. Just the thought of it makes him shiver, even though he isn’t actually against having a certain amount of the white stuff. He hasn’t has a good snowball fight in years. Before he realises where his mind is going he starts to imagine Steve with flecks of snow in his hair and a confused expression on his face after a direct hit from one of Bucky’s throws. The thought makes him smile. He can’t actually imagine anything securing his feeling of home more than Brooklyn in the snow.

The thing that he really doesn’t like is the wind. It doesn’t matter how many layers he wears, it seems to cut through them and the cold goes straight through his nerves every time. By the time he arrives at Steve’s his shoulder is aching quite a lot and several strands of hair have fallen lose from the ponytail that he’d somehow mastered the art of scraping back into a messy looking bun with only one hand. It is a skill he’s already shown off to Natasha several times.

Steve lets him in straight away when he buzzes; he’s obviously been waiting. After climbing the stairs to the third floor Bucky sees that the door is already slight ajar, so he lets himself in.

“Hey, Steve! It’s just me.”

“I’m in the kitchen just making coffee. It’s freezing out there; I thought you’d probably need it.”

Bucky makes his way along the short corridor into the main part of the apartment, pulling off his jacket as he goes. The apartment is always warmer than Bucky is used to at home. Sam makes no secret of the fact that he hates the cold and Steve seems to only own t-shirts with short sleeves, so it obviously suits him too.

When Bucky comes round the corner Steve has his back to him and is operating the coffee machine. It is an opportunity he can’t miss. As quickly as the idea has formed he goes over to Steve, lifts up his t-shirt just a little, and places his freezing cold hand to Steve’s side. Until that moment he’d never heard Steve swear before and it is worth every second of revenge likely to come his way in the future.

“Jesus, Bucky!” Steve yells as he twists away from the contact, “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

Bucky is too busy laughing his head off and backing away out of Steve’s reach to actually hear that. When he eventually manages to control his laughter and wipe at some of the tears that have formed in the corners of his eyes, he sees Steve trying to do his best to look as disapproving as possible, complete with arms folded across his chest.

“It is pretty cold out there, Steve,” Bucky says with a grin.

Steve’s act falls through after that and he just shakes his head in mock disbelief.

“I invited you into my warm home, I’ve makes you fresh coffee, and you repay me by being a little shit. I’ll remember this forever.”

“It was worth it,” Bucky says as he accepts the mug Steve passes to him. It is almost too hot to hold onto in contrast to the frozen state of his fingers. The discomfort soon passes though and pleasant warmth starts to slowly spread further up his arm.

Steve leads the way over to the couch and Bucky follows. He hadn’t realised the moment when being in Steve’s home had started to feel so calming to him, but it definitely is. He almost doesn’t want to break the calm now to talk about what he needs to. He is pretty sure he could spend a week here and solve most of the problems in his head just with good sleep and the calm aura of the place.

Steve places his mug down onto the table in front of him and turns to place all his attention on Bucky, “What you wanted to talk about...It sounded pretty serious.”

“It’s not; not really. I was overreacting a bit when I messaged you. I feel a lot clearer now.”

Steve hums in response, “Do you still want to talk about it?”

Bucky takes another sip of his coffee and turns the idea over in his head for a few seconds. He does, he knows he does. Now he is here he realises that worrying about what Steve might think is as irrational as he can get. Steve has done nothing but accept everything about him since the first day they’d met. Bucky can’t ever remember knowing someone as understanding and so willing to help.

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky eventually says.

Neither of them speak for several minutes. Bucky attempts to drain the remainder of his coffee, as if the answer as to where to start is at the bottom of his mug. Steve sits patiently waiting. Bucky appreciates his ability to understand not to push.

“When did you realise you were bisexual?” he finally asks.

“It’s hard to pinpoint exactly. I was a bit of a late bloomer. I wasn’t very healthy as a teenager so I missed a lot of that time in high school. I guess by the time I was seventeen I’d realised I was attracted to both guys and girls. I had a girlfriend in my senior year and she was really good to me; she was the first person I came out to and the first thing she said was that it didn’t matter to her how I identified because it was a part of what makes me ‘me’. I had it a lot easier than most.”

“What happened to her?”

“She moved back to England to go to university there. We decided the distance would be too much to maintain the relationship. We try to keep in touch through email though.”

“Have you had any boyfriends?”

“I’ve been on a few dates, but never more than that.”

Bucky takes a moment to process all of that. Steve opens up with such unreserved honesty and it knocks him back a bit. It isn’t just that though. Bucky has known Steve for just over a month and yet Steve is trusting him with things Bucky isn’t actually sure he deserves answers to. If Steve trusts him then he knows he can trust Steve.

“Steve...Do people ever get confused and think they might be something but then it turns out they’re not?”

Steve looks thoughtful for a moment but makes no obvious sign to answer. Bucky is ready to take it back when he feels warm fingers rest gently over his own. He tenses on reflex for just a second. When he looks up at Steve, he is smiling softly at him with such sincere understanding that Bucky doesn’t quite know what he should be feeling.

“Bucky, do you really need a label to be happy?” he ask quietly.

“Yes,” he says, and as much as he wants to explain how he needs to know so that he doesn’t just feel broken anymore, that he needs to know because he knows he’s different and he wants to be different together with others, and that he needs to know so he can imagine one day when he is ready feeling a closeness to someone and not needing to put on an act or run away from it. He wants to say all of that but he can’t force the words out. Instead he starts with what he knows now.

“I don’t really, ya know, feel an awful lot anymore.”

“You don’t feel attracted to anyone?”

“I don’t know. I guess I am. I don’t deprive myself of the luxury of shifting my gaze when someone attractive walks by or enters a room.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“It doesn’t really matter. I dated girls when I was in high school and college,” Bucky begins, “there’s a certain expectation of that’s what you do. Mostly it was just dancing and kissing with a bit of groping thrown in if things seemed like they are going that way. I had a reputation in the end as a bit of a charmer and I knew how to play it up; I made a profession of knowing when to smile and flirting like it might be my last night on Earth. It got a bit different in college. It wasn’t always the girls. Gave a few blow jobs to guys on a couple of drunken nights out. The kisses weren’t quite as sweet but they were good.”

He takes a moment to pause and gather his thoughts. Steve doesn’t interrupt; he still sits with every part of his attention on Bucky.

“It’s all okay. I had fun, mostly. I was young. But there was a part of me even then that just never felt as if it was as great as everyone makes it out to be. So in the end I just carried on that way because it was what was expected of me. Then I joined the army and suddenly it didn’t really matter anymore.”

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but do you ever feel sexually attracted to anyone?”

Bucky doesn’t need to look up to know that Steve is blushing; he could hear it all in his voice. It actually makes him feel more at ease about answering, knowing that he isn’t the only one feeling awkward, although that feeling is very much secondary to the multitude of other emotions flooding his brain right now.

“If I said that I don’t know if I ever feel sexually attracted to anyone, would that be weird?”

Steve smiles softly and the hand that is still resting over Bucky’s squeezes gently.

“Not at all.”

“I used to not care when I was younger, I guess everything is driven by hormones. It wasn’t like it was awful; I liked to please whoever I was with at the time, kinda made me feel worth something, but now...I feel like maybe if I got my head sorted out a bit more and, I don’t know...”

“Found the right partner?”

“Yeah, something like that. Maybe if I found the right partner then I’d feel differently. But at the same time I might not, and that sounds like a deal sinker to me.”

“You’re worried that you won’t want to have sex even if you are to fall in love?” Steve asks to confirm. Bucked nods his head in response.

Steve makes to get up from the couch. The first thing Bucky notices is the loss of the hand over his. It had been an anchor to the here and now and he misses it straight away.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Steve says, “I just need to get something.”

Bucky watches as he makes his way over to the workstation and pulls a piece of paper from the printer and quickly writes something down. He then folds it in half and half again, with the words hidden inside. When he comes back over to the couch he hands it to Bucky.

“Don’t read it yet. Take it home with you, do some research, and then we can talk about it again. I don’t know if it will help you at all, but I think it might.”

Bucky takes the paper and pushes it into the back pocket of his jeans. Steve is still standing up and is now rubbing at his neck awkwardly as if he has something else to say.

“Are you okay?”

Steve laughs ever so quietly, almost to himself. Bucky can see that he is thinking over things to say and then rejecting them; it is a feeling he is very familiar with himself.

“With the risk of ruining any opinion you already have of me, I really want to hug you,” he says quietly, before adding, “If that would be okay with you.”

Bucky sits in surprise for a moment. No one has hugged him for a long time, a very long time. And he wants to question it now and back away because of the uncertainty that he knows is there, but at the same time right then he wants that contact, so before he can change his mind he stands up, steps towards Steve, and places his arm around him and pulls him close.

When both Steve’s arms come up to wrap around him, he feels an almost physical release of tension through his body and he doesn’t think about the feeling of lightness that comes over him as they stand there pulled together, because it all feels okay.

They stay like that for much longer than it should take for things to feel awkward. It’s Steve who breaks contact first and Bucky has to steady himself to resist automatically chasing back after the touch. Steve still keeps one hand cupped to Bucky’s arm, but the other has slipped to his side, as if anymore than one place of contact will be too intimate.

“I don’t think you should come to group this evening. I think you’d find it much better to read up on the things I wrote down and having a think on it. I know you’re not much fond of how we do things on Thursday anyway.”

Bucky’s instinct reaction is to feel offended. The idea that he is too fragile for more than one intense conversation a day makes his defences raise. That is until rationality kicks in and he realises that that probably isn’t even close to what Steve means. The fear comes next, that perhaps he is right and that he doesn’t belong there and Steve is trying to let him down gently. No, no that didn’t sound right either. Bucky gives himself a mental kick to try to start thinking properly again.

“I can still come to help you out, Steve. You can’t do all the setting up on your own.”

“I can ask Sam to come along, he won’t mind.”

Steve seems then to pick up on the now sudden wave of anxiety that Bucky is trying hard not to let show on his face.

“Bucky, I don’t mean anything by it. It’s up to you if you come along or not. I just thought, well, the information I’ve given you might really help you and it will be a whole lot more relevant than whatever wild tangent Wade and Peter manage to lead us on tonight. I just thought it might be a better use of your time.”

Bucky feels the wave of anxiety stop rising. He becomes aware that Steve’s grip on his arm has become slightly more than just resting there, and he releases the breath he’d accidentally been holding.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That makes a lot of sense.”

Steve finally lowers his hand from Bucky’s arm, but not before rubbing up and down just a couple of times that makes Bucky wish just for a moment that he could have that sensation for longer.

“You could text me after about what you think. If you wanted I could drive by yours after in case you wanted to talk more.”

It is a tempting offer, it really is. Steve hasn’t been to his place yet, mainly because Bucky has become so attached to being here. He knows though that tonight won’t be the ideal time. He has an early morning appointment again tomorrow about his arm, so he wants to be well rested for that. He’d also promised he’d be around to talk to Natasha tonight before she heads off across State for a week long martial arts workshop.

“I’ll have to rain check,” Bucky says, “Nat head’s off tomorrow on her trip and I’ve got to be up early for another appointment. I will message you though.”

Steve seems happy enough with that and Bucky is glad. Perhaps next week he’d arrange for Steve to come over. Perhaps they could decorate the flat with art and film posters while Nat is away. That would be a pretty neat plan.

\--

Natasha is home already when Bucky arrives back. Steve had tried to convince Bucky to let him drive him home, but Bucky had stayed strong and said the walk would do him good. He was pretty sure Steve knew that the moment he got out of the apartment block he was going to look at the piece of paper.

He’d actually managed to wait until he’d gone another block before taking it from his pocket, and when he read over the words they actually meant very little.

_‘Asexual. Demisexual. Graysexual.’_

When he gets home, Nat is sitting in the lounge with her laptop open on the small table in front of her. She raises a single eyebrow at him as he walks through into the room.

“You’re back early.”

“I have some reading to do. I went to Steve’s early to get some advice. We decided my time would be better spent just looking some things up that he wrote down for me.”

Nat seems satisfied with that answer.

“I can take you to your appointment tomorrow before I leave. As long as you’re ready by 8am. I want to drop you off and then get across town before it gets really busy.”

“I’d be ready earlier than that if I needed to get the bus, so you’d be doing me a favour.”

“I’ll be back next Friday evening. Have you made all the arrangements you need to about getting to your appointments and things?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Yes, Nat, everything is under control. I can walk most places now anyway, and if I get really stuck then I can message Steve or Sam.”

“Fine, you jerk, I can see my very meaningful concern is wasted on your sorry ass,” she says with only mocked venom.

“You love me really, Natasha, I know you do,” Bucky says with a grin as he turns to walk through to his room.

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

Bucky pulls out his own laptop and settles on the floor with his back leaning against his bed. For some reason he finds the floor to be a much more comfortable place to sit instead of being scrunched up on his bed. If Natasha wasn’t here then he might have taken himself out into the lounge, but she’s probably on video chat with Clint now and he doesn’t really fancy the distraction while trying to concentrate.

He loads up the search engine and types in the first word from the list. Instantly the first results of over seven million appear on his screen. Okay, so it isn’t that obscure then; he’d obviously just been reading the wrong books.

As much as he has learnt to distrust things on Wikipedia, especially concerning things he’d researched in the past about his mental health, it seems the natural best place to start.

Three hours later and still with about 15 different tabs open on his browser, he takes a deep breath and finally shuts the lid of his laptop. At some point after the first hour he had moved himself onto the bed and laid down with the laptop open next to him. There was a lot to read. One link led to another and then another. At one point he had to stop for a while to let his eyes rest, and his brain catch up. There’s a lot to take in and he feels like perhaps he’s only skimmed the surface, although it feels like the surface is perhaps all he needs right now.

After shutting everything down Bucky goes to the bathroom and splashes some cold water across his face to try to take away some of the heat that has built from the combination of adrenaline of discovery and the feeling of panic that goes along with it. He is thankful that Natasha is no longer in the lounge when he walks through to grab a glass of water, but he still retreats back to his room after. The time on his phone tells him that the support group would have come to an end about twenty minutes ago. That means Steve would soon be home, so he took out his phone to sent off a quick message.

_‘I’ve done a lot of reading. I think this might be me...some of it...maybe’_

Five minutes later he gets a reply.

_‘I’m home now. Do you want to talk?’_

_‘Feeling pretty drained tbh. Gonna rest now then sleep.’_

_‘Okay. I hope you sleep well.’_

_‘Can I come by after my appointment tomorrow?’_

_‘Of course you can! Game of Thrones is still waiting for you : )’_

Bucky smiles tiredly to himself and places his phone on the table beside his bed. Every part of him feels drained, but not all in a negative way; some of it feels nice. His brain is still buzzing with noise, but he knows he has to try to get to sleep or he’ll be good for no one tomorrow, so he quickly unzips and kicks off his jeans and pulls his t-shirt from over his head, before climbing under the covers. Before he settles back down on the pillow, he picks up his phone to send one more message.

_‘Thanks Steve. For everything.’_


	6. Chapter 6

Steve doesn’t know how to respond to the last message he gets through from Bucky that night, so he leaves it. It feels like a conversation end anyway, but in its wake it leaves a warm feeling settling in his stomach and the tingling as if butterflies have taken residence there. It is both wonderful, but toxic. It’s okay to have a crush on his friend, he’s not  going to deny himself that, but he knows this isn’t just that feeling anymore. He tries not to, but he’s falling pretty badly for Bucky. At this point he doesn’t know how to avoid it. Everything about his life has felt so much more meaningful since Bucky had come into it. For the first time he actually feels like his existence means something, because he’s found someone he feels he can really share things with. It feels so easy and so right. He just hopes that whatever feelings he continues to develop don’t ruin what he is treasuring so greatly.

It takes a lot longer for Steve to fall asleep that night, to the point where he is considering just giving up and heading back out to the lounge to watch whatever crap late night movie he can find on TV. In the end he must have eventually dozed off, because the next thing he is aware of is a hammering on his door and Sam’s muffled voice shouting at him.

“Steve, I’m sure you have class today. I’m not your mother, Steve! God knows I’m not paid enough for that.”

Steve rolls over and grabs his phone from the side, and then the panic starts. He jumps out of bed and flings the door open.

“Shit, Sam, I slept in! Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“Hey, it’s my day off, I only really just got up myself.”

Steve dashes into the bathroom and is out again a minute later. He can see Sam trying not to laugh at him as he grabs whatever clothes he can get his hands on, not really caring if they matched or not.

“Pretty sure you wore those socks yesterday, Steve.”

“Shut up! Go make yourself useful and do me a slice of toast that I can grab on my way out the door.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Steve hears Sam mutter as he makes his way to the kitchen area.

Steve can’t remember ever being late for class, at least not without a valid excuse of some medical thing or another in high school. He is a light sleeper usually, so to be out so fully that he missed his alarm probably says a lot for the blissful state of mind he was in when he at last drifted off.

Sam has the toast held out ready for him after he quickly shoves all his art supplies into his bag that he needs for the day.

“You’re a life saver, Sam.”

“I know you only love me for my fierce culinary skills.”

“Don’t forget your fantastic body.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out and get your ass to class, Rogers.”

Steve hasn’t heard from Bucky by the time he gets out of class in the afternoon, so he presumes he’s either still at the hospital or he’d gone home to sleep. He remembers last time that Bucky had been exhausted. He knows the appointments are follow ups from his amputation, but he doesn’t know anymore than that; Bucky hasn’t chosen to open up to him about that part of his life yet. Steve isn’t completely sure what he would say if Bucky did. When he arrives home though he sends Bucky a message to say he’s in now and he’s welcome round whenever he feels up to it. It is only 2pm in the afternoon so Steve decides to get on with his latest commission work.

By 6pm Steve has finished the initial sketch and inked all the final design by hand. He’d got a bit distracted about half way through when he decided to check his email and then accidentally ended up spending an hour watching random videos on the internet. He actually didn’t realise it had got so late until he notices that he is feeling pretty hungry. He hasn’t heard from Bucky yet so he sends him another text.

_‘Hey Bucky. I hope your appointment went okay. Just going to make some pasta for dinner...If you still wanted to come round they’ll be enough for you.’_

He hopes that doesn’t sound too desperate for company. Bucky’s probably just sleeping or something. It doesn’t matter too much about the food; it never feels worthwhile cooking just for one, so he decides to make a pasta bake and that way if Sam comes in anytime soon then there’d be enough for him too. If no one decides to turn up then it would be perfectly alright to freeze ready for one of the days when Steve can’t be bothered to cook from scratch.

Sam finally gets home at 9pm. Steve had made himself comfortable in front of a Firefly marathon on SyFy channel after finishing eating. It’s easy watching and he still finds himself loving it despite having seen the series through several times already. It isn’t quite what he imagined his Friday night being, but there isn’t much he can do about that.

“Hey Sam, how was your day?”

“Great, man. Spent the day with the guys. No one got arrested. It was pretty good fun. What about you, I expected your Boy Wonder to be here?”

“I think he must be sleeping or something because he hasn’t responded to my messages. It’s okay though, I’ve settled in with my Captain for tonight so I’m pretty satisfied.”

“You are very easily pleased, Rogers,” Sam says, as he opens the fridge and pulls out the dish of food from earlier, “Did you make pasta? Because heaven knows everything I want right now is pasta.”

Steve laughs quietly, “Knock yourself out. Just shove whatever you don’t have into the freezer.”

After Sam has heated the food he comes and takes a seat on the couch next to Steve. Steve shuffles further into his curled up position near the arm and tries to subtly sneak a look at his phone for messages. He’d be lucky if that much would get past Sam though.

“Hey man, I’m sure it’s like what you’ve said. Hospital appointments can be pretty draining and we don’t really know what he’s going through. He probably just called it quits on the day and went to bed when he got home.”

Steve hums in response and tucks his phone into the pocket of his pants. If it’s out of sight then he won’t think about it so much. He can still feel the floaty feeling of happiness from the night before slowly easing away though.

\--

The next morning Steve wakes late, which is unusual even for a Saturday. When he sits up he becomes very aware of a heaviness settled in his head. He really hopes he isn’t getting sick again. It is prime time for cold season to be kicking off. It’s already spread through half the class at school and Steve had been taking every precaution to avoid it so far.

There still isn’t a reply on his phone from Bucky. That doesn’t help at all in encouraging enough enthusiasm to get up. His head feels rough though and he knows that if he’s going to want to accomplish anything today then he has to get up and find some meds now before it settles in permanently.

Steve decides, after finding painkillers and taking a shower, that he’s going to take a duvet day. He has some work he can get on with from his room and Sam is working all day anyway so he doesn’t have to feel guilty about leaving him hanging on a Saturday. He actually manages to get quite a bit done even if he does take an afternoon nap around 3pm.

He decides to try not to worry too much about Bucky’s lack of response to his messages. It’s not like Bucky owes him that. Steve tries to convince himself that Bucky knows he’s here when he’s ready to hang out or talk or whatever, and that is the main thing, even if it does hurt just a little to be kept on the outside when he’s become so used to Bucky’s company.

Sunday rolls by in pretty much the same way. Thankfully he seems to have managed to kill the cold before it got a true fighting grip on his immune system. Still, he doesn’t want to risk it, so most of the day is spent bundled up under a hoodie and a blanket.

It’s Monday that he really starts to worry, especially when Sam comes home from the VA and says that Bucky hadn’t been at the meeting.

“He’s still meant to come along to every one as part of his agreement to leave assisted accommodation. Have you heard anything from him?”

Steve shakes his head sadly. He’d sent Bucky another text that morning to ask if he wanted to come over later, but still has no reply.

“Do you suppose he’s ill or something?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know. I’m gonna send him a message.”

Tuesday is even worse. Bucky doesn’t come round to Steve’s like normal for his lift to group. Part of Steve really hoped he’d still turn up; he’s mentally clutching at every straw he can think of now. When he gets home he sends Bucky another message. It is getting damn near impossible to sound anything other than panicked, but he censors every heightened feeling to sound as casual as possible.

\--

Bucky opens his eyes slowly. For a good few moments he doesn’t know where he is. He definitely doesn’t know what day it is. Everything in his head is foggy. He looks around and takes in his surroundings for a few moments. Kitchen counter. Couch. TV in front of the couch. Landscape painting...He is at home.

He can’t remember getting there. His phone says it’s 1pm.

\--

His phone said it was 1pm but now it is 4pm. He doesn’t understand. There’s so much pain though. There is so much pain and it spreads right up through his shoulder and into his head and he can hear screaming and it hurt.

\--

He’d fallen asleep again, or passed out. His body feels numb and he can barely move it, but he is clearer this time. The hospital appointment hadn’t gone well and Nat isn’t home. That’s what he knows for certain. He’s positioned himself in the corner of the lounge because from that point he can see everything.

It isn’t meant to go like this. Everything has been going so well and now he is back to square one again. He doesn’t even know what day it is.

His phone buzzes at one point when he is fully awake. The first thing he thinks is ‘Steve’. He was meant to message Steve. He’d gone straight to bed after his appointment and was going to message Steve in the morning, but when he’d woken up he couldn’t get out of bed.

Bucky pickes up his phone and opens the messages.

_Sam: ‘Steve’s really worried about you man. Text me if you can’t text him.’_

_Steve: ‘Hey Buck. If you want to come round tonight then that would be good. It would be good to see you.’_

_Nat: ‘James I swear if you don’t answer the phone I will call Clint and tell him to come round and break the door down if he has to.’_

_Sam: ‘Bucky you really need to contact one of us. I’m here to help you.’_

_Therapist: This is an automatic text to remind you that since you missed your last appointment you must phone within the next 48 hours to rearrange a time that you can attend.’_

_Steve: ‘Hey Buck. We missed you at group. Peter and Wade are asking after you...It would be really good to hear from you.’_

_Steve: ‘Bucky please just send me a message so I know you’re okay. I just need to know you’re fine.’_

Bucky throws the phone a few feet away from himself and curls up on his side. He’s ruined everything. Things were going so well and because he wanted too much he’s ruined everything.

\--

He must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he knows is that he is waking up curled up on the floor. Bucky rubs at his eyes and they are wet and sore. He remembers he’d been crying. 

Steve. He needs to message Steve. He looks around for his phone and sees it across the floor where he’d thrown it. His body feels so heavy to move, as if he hasn’t used it for days. For one awful moment he loses his balance when he reaches out with his left hand that isn’t there. When he eventually picks up his phone it takes all his concentration to type up the message he desperately needs to send.

_‘Steve...I need help. Please don’t call. Just come. My door code is...6599.’_

Within 30 seconds his phone buzzes.

_‘I’m on my way. Don’t move. Don’t do anything.’_

Bucky reads over the message several times. It’s going to be okay. Steve is on his way and it is going to be okay. He curls back up in his position on the floor and screws his eyes tightly shut.

\--

Steve has never moved so fast in his life than he does after he gets the message from Bucky. It takes all of his remaining rational thought to realise that he needs to put on his boots before he can go running out the door. He also needs to message Sam, but he’d do that later once he knows Bucky is okay. He’s just about smart enough to realise he is in no fit state to drive over, so instead he walks before it turns into a jog.

By the time he gets to the apartment block he can’t remember the access code and it takes three attempts for his trembling fingers to open the message on his phone.

“6599,” Steve says to himself as he types in the code. The door buzzes to signal it’s open and Steve wastes no time in rushing inside. Bucky is in apartment five, he remembers that much. It’s on the fourth floor. Steve takes the stairs two at a time until the point where he can feel his lungs burning and he has to slow down. He’d be no good if he gets to Bucky and can’t breathe.

He remembers the number this time when he gets to Bucky’s door and types it in. He has enough awareness left to realise that bursting in through the door in the state he is in won’t be helpful at all. As much as his mind is fighting to just want to run inside and help, he forces himself to stand still and catch the rest of his breath. He starts to breath in the way he remembers seeing Bucky do to settle his anxiety. Steve gets to 12 before he decides he isn’t going to get any calmer and he needs to go inside.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness of the room, but he spots Bucky straight away. That is the moment Steve feels his heart truly break for the first time.

Bucky’s eyes are screwed up tight and he’s curled up into a foetal position. Steve can’t tell if he’s heard him come in or not.

Steve walks over slowly and then crouches down to crawl the rest of the way.

“Bucky?” he asks quietly, “Bucky, it’s me, Steve. Can you hear me?”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s me.”

Bucky opens his eyes and Steve’s heart clenches again. He looks so young; so young and so lost. Steve holds out his arms to show Bucky that he really is here and that he isn’t going to hurt him. The next thing he knows Bucky is dragging himself across the small space between them and throwing his arms around Steve’s waist.

Steve takes just a few moments to react and then cradles Bucky’s head in his hands.

“It’s alright now. You’re okay, Bucky. I’ll help you through this.”

They sit like that for so long in silence that Steve could almost believe Bucky may have fallen asleep if it isn’t for the death grip around his waist. He’s prepared to stay like that indefinitely because he’s too scared to shake Bucky from his peace. That is until Bucky starts to speak.

“I thought I was okay. I thought I was just tired and that I’d sleep off the pain and I’d wake up okay. But I did wake up and I tried to get up and to make myself breakfast, but I just didn’t care. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know what to do. I felt exhausted. Lost.”

“Shh, Bucky, shh. I am so, so glad that you contacted me,” Steve soothes, “I’m going to help you, okay? I really want to help you. I need to ask though, have you done anything to hurt yourself?”

Bucky shakes his head in Steve’s lap, and Steve starts to run his hand through Bucky’s hair in what he hopes so much is a comforting gesture.

“Okay. Okay, that’s good. What can I do to help you?”

That is when Steve has to give up on trying not to cry. Bucky laughs. It is the quietest, saddest laugh Steve has ever heard, and it breaks him to hear it.

“I don’t know what will help. I don’t even know what day it is.”

\--

They stayed like that for Steve didn’t know how long. Eventually he realises that he has to take control of what is happening and handle the situation. He feels so out of his depth, but Bucky is shivering under his touch now and Steve isn’t sure if it is from cold or shock, but it is enough to kick his brain into action to move.

“Bucky, I need you to sit up. You’re shaking and I think perhaps the best thing is to get you into the shower and try to warm you up, okay?”

Bucky makes very little effort to move from Steve’s lap, so Steve very gently starts to try to manoeuvre him into an upright position. Bucky follows eventually and Steve is able to sit him up against the wall.

“What day is it?” Bucky mumbles.

“It’s Wednesday, about 5pm. It’s not important though, okay, we’re just going to get you better. I’m going to leave you now just for a moment and find some towels and put the shower on, then I’ll be back to help you.”

Steve does all of that and then returns to Bucky. With some effort together they are able to get to the bathroom. Bucky seems very reluctant for Steve to leave, even when he is undressing. The only distress he shows is when removing his t-shirt.

“Don’t look at it, Stevie, don’t look at my arm.”

Steve turns away and he doesn’t look back until he hears the change in the spray of the shower as Bucky sits himself underneath it. He thinks about leaving then and going to make tea for after, but the thought of leaving the bathroom and the gentle patter of the water that is calming him as much as he hopes it is calming Bucky is too hard to move away from.

Eventually the hot water must run out because Bucky reaches out to Steve for a towel. Together they walk through to Bucky’s room and Steve is able to find a t-shirt and sweat pants for Bucky to put on.

Steve makes tea and brings it back to the bedroom where Bucky is now sitting on the edge of the bed and at least looking slightly more alert than he had first done when Steve found him in the apartment. He’s also stopped shaking.

“You aren’t meant to see me broken,” Bucky says quietly after a few moments, “I was doing really well for so long.”

“Hey, all I see is my friend who needs some support after experiences I can’t begin to imagine. I am glad I can be here for you.” He feels the weight of Bucky’s head as it comes down to rest on his shoulder.

“Why do you keep persisting with me?”

“You’re a good guy, Buck. I just want you to feel that,” Steve rubs gentle circles into his back hoping that even if the words don’t connect now then maybe later they will.

“Can you stay with me tonight? We don’t have a spare room but you can sleep here with me. If you’re okay with that. I promise I won’t try anything,” the line is delivered so far away from Bucky’s usual light hearted teasing that Steve has come to expect, but it makes his heart stop panicking just a little to hear Bucky trying. He doesn’t think Bucky realises just how amazing he is at always managing to find some small way to bounce back, seemingly from zero. Steve wishes he could tell him how brave he thinks he is.

Steve waits until Bucky is asleep and then he leaves the room quietly to phone Sam. Naturally his friend is pretty pissed off at him for trying to handle the situation alone, but not enough to not tell Steve he’s been brilliant. He tells Sam he is staying the night and that he’ll update him more in the morning, but he thinks everything will be okay and, based on his own experiences of depression, things so often always feels much better in the morning.

He’s almost fallen asleep when he becomes aware that Bucky hasn’t been quite as out of it as he’d thought. Bucky’s hand searches the bed until Steve gives him his own to hold, and then he seems to relax again.

“It was my arm,” Bucky says into the darkness, “I’m part of a trial to see if a robotic arm can be connected to the nerves of amputation patients. Everything’s been going well, but on Friday...There was just so much pain and I didn’t think I could do it. And then they told me it wasn’t working; that they couldn’t get it to connect with my nerves like it should have done. It was so draining and painful...Maybe more painful than losing my arm in the first place. I thought I’d be okay, but I clearly wasn’t.”

Steve just held his hand tight until he fell back to sleep.

\--

Steve wakes in the morning to find Bucky still sleeping. He has to get home so he can get ready for a class that afternoon. He stays as long as he can before he has to wake Bucky, and when he does he is so relieved to see that Bucky’s eyes appear so much brighter that morning. He knows he never wants to see the lost haze in those blue eyes ever again.

He makes Bucky some breakfast before coming back into the room to say goodbye. Bucky has convinces him that he will be okay and as an incentive for Steve to leave him he says he will be over to his apartment later to hang out. Steve recognises this is Bucky trying to get back to normal routine as quickly as possible. If that’s all he can do to help then he is happy with that.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite Bucky’s best efforts, it takes a couple of weeks to feel as if things are back to normal. What surprises him the most though is realising now how his support network has changed so much since his arrival back in Brooklyn. Nat had nearly hit the roof when he’d had Sam help him fill her in on what had happened while she was away, but eventually she calmed down enough and told him that despite the fact that he is a big pain in the ass she would be pretty lost without him. Bucky is also pretty sure Sam was an angel in a past life; he is the best VA counsellor Bucky has been with so far, and he is an even better friend. And when Bucky saw his therapist again he thought he was going to get told off; instead the help he got with deferring appointments about his arm and trying to map out when he might possibly be ready to try again was completely invaluable.

That just left Steve. He doesn’t know what he can think about Steve that would actually do him any justice at all. In a couple of short months he’s gone from the person who looked out of place at the VA meeting, to being the best friend he’s had in his life. It’s probably natural that something has shifted in their relationship since the night Steve came round to help him. It seems impossible to imagine that any two people could go through something like that and not come out closer. To start with it was scary to Bucky, but then he thought why should he be scared of something that makes him feel so happy and so easy in company, especially when Steve seems to feel the same. He doesn’t want to deprive himself of something that makes him feel almost whole again in the first time since before he’d shipped off to war.

This is his family now and he’s put them together all on his own, and if he has any negative thoughts about how he doesn’t deserve it then he writes it all down and he talks about it. His incident has shaken him a lot, but he quickly decides it makes him more determined than ever to get better.

He’s seeing his therapist three times a week now just to get to that point. It isn’t until their fourth meeting that she asks about how he is feeling about his identity currently. It throws him a little bit, because while he has been attending support group with Steve the last few times, he hasn’t actually focussed too much on his own feelings. It has got lost pretty quickly within the chaos of his mind and at the moment it somehow doesn’t feel so important to come back to. Maybe though that is because he’s found those terms and for the first time he actually feels like he isn’t alone in the ways he feels, and that is okay. For now they draw a line under it.

Friday night’s are now Bucky’s favourites. His day is free to do with what he wishes, which now consists mostly of getting back into his work out routines again. Then just after 3pm Steve always sends him a message to say he is home and that is when Bucky heads on over.

Bucky likes to watch Steve work for the first couple of hours and for the most part he thinks Steve is quite happy to be watched, although Bucky also does a pretty good job of pretending to be very into whatever book or graphic novel he grabs from Steve’s shelf that day to hide behind. Either way, neither of them mention it, it’s just something they’ve settled into doing.

That particular Friday evening Steve is sitting curled up on the sofa and Bucky is sitting on the floor in front of him. They’ve filled themselves on Thai take-out and are now finally working their way through season three of Game of Thrones. At least Bucky is trying to pay attention to what is happening, but about halfway through the first episode Steve’s hand has come to rest in his hair and from there it has taken to easily moving through the strands and ghosting soothing fingers across Bucky’s scalp. It took all of his willpower not to hum contentedly like a cat. He isn’t even sure if Steve knows he’s doing it.

At the end of the episode the hand is still there and Bucky is pretty sure he’d be quite happy to let it go on forever.

“I used to love having my hair played with when I was a kid,” he says at last, “Seems I didn’t lose that,” he looks behind at Steve and smiles, and is happy to see Steve smile back and continue to run his fingers in a repeating pattern across Bucky’s scalp.

“I will fall asleep you know.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Steve says.

“You would eventually,” Bucky replies sleepily, “I could stay like this forever.”

\--

The thing is, Steve wishes he would.

Bucky is becoming his everything and though it had started slowly he can’t out run the fact that every other feeling is now coming all at once. The change in their friendship has made everything better and at the same time so much worse. The contact shared between them feels natural and Steve is grateful for that because he will take whatever small contact he can get from Bucky, but it is also agony because every time he looks at Bucky his heart aches. More than anything he wants to hold him in his arms and, when the moment is right, kiss him until Bucky realises how beautiful and perfect Steve thinks he is and how much Steve’s world has come to be about him.

Of course he says nothing and whenever he feels selfish for wanting for more he mentally berates himself. Bucky is the best friend he’s ever had and nothing is worth jeopardising that and not having anything of him at all. All he can hope is that one day the ache inside will feel normal and he’ll be satisfied with what he already has.

Bucky is strangely quiet on the last Friday night of November. He’d been to a therapy appointment before coming over to Steve’s, so Steve guesses his mind is playing over something that has happened there. He doesn’t push for an explanation. He’s learnt over the past few weeks that Bucky is slowly opening up to him about that part of his life. It’s one of the things that has changed between them. It’s never said in the open like this though. Usually it’s when a film has finished and they are left sitting in the dark, or if Bucky has decided to stay late into the evening crashed out on Steve’s bed. Those are the times he’s opened up just for a bit and told Steve things so honest and true that Steve can only sit in silence and feel grateful for the intimacy he is being shown.

Tonight though Bucky is twitchy with it, as if it isn’t something that is going to wait until darkness. Steve has finished up his work and Bucky is sitting on the couch restlessly fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

“What do you want to watch tonight?” Bucky just shrugs, “We could play a game instead,” Steve suggests.

“I don’t really feel like playing a game.”

“Okay, well we can just sit for a bit.”

So they do for maybe twenty minutes, and several times Steve hears Bucky release a breath he’s been holding as if he’s going to say something, only for no words to come. When they eventually do, Steve can only describe himself as momentarily lost.

“Would you paint on me?” Bucky asks, “On my left shoulder, on my stump? Anything you want. Like a tattoo. You could test some of your designs.”

Bucky waits for a couple of moments and then must take Steve’s confused expression for some sort of rejection because Steve can see straight away as the mental barriers Bucky uses so efficiently to protect himself start to go back up.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I shouldn’t have asked like that without warning. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“No, Bucky, it’s okay! I’m just,” Steve tries to look for the words but he comes up blank, “Of course I will. Just give me a few minutes to work out some ideas.”

Steve stands up to make his way over to his workspace, only to have Bucky reach out and grab his hand.

“You don’t need to work out ideas, just go with it. I trust you.” And at that point Steve knows he could never deny Bucky anything, not when he speaks like that.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, “I can do that. I just need to get my paints. You’ll, erm...You’ll need to remove your shirt.”

Steve takes his time picking the different paint colours he thinks he might need, enough time that he knows Bucky can get his shirt off and get comfortable. He takes out some of his newest brushes, the soft ones that he uses for washes, and finds the cleanest looking mixing palette that he has.

“I just need to get some water for rinsing my brushes,” he says as he heads over to the sink in the kitchen. When he comes back over and settles on the couch he tries to rest his eyes anywhere except Bucky and especially his arm. It means that he doesn’t notice Bucky reaching to his chin to lift his head until he feels his touch on his skin.

“It’s okay to look at it, Steve. I’m giving you permission,” he says softly.

Bucky’s hand is gone almost as soon as it had been there and Steve is left with the feeling of heat travelling across his skin as if from the contact points where Bucky’s fingers had rested. Even with Bucky’s permission he finds it very hard to move his gaze away from Bucky’s face, even though he can’t even bring himself to make eye contact. He isn’t sure what he has done to deserve this intimacy. For Bucky to have come to trust him so fully is the biggest gift he could have dreamed of being given, but he also fears it will be his destruction.

With much hesitation he slowly brings his hand up to Bucky’s neck. He feels the tendons there flex momentarily under his touch and then relax. Steve runs his fingers, just a ghost of a touch to begin with that progresses into a proper caress, down to Bucky’s shoulder where he starts to feel the texture change into the lines of scar tissue. He lets his fingers trace the lines down until they merge into creases and dips under his fingers where the scarring isn’t so neat. When he reaches the stump of Bucky’s arm he stops and lets his hand fall away, and he finally lets his eyes take the same journey across his skin.

When Steve looks back up to Bucky’s face, he finds blue eyes staring back at him softly, almost apologetically.

“It’s not much to work with. I’m not the best canvas. You might need to paint around the more ugly scars.”

“You’re beautiful, Bucky. Don’t let anyone ever make you feel any differently. I just hope that what I come up with meets your expectations.”

“Of course it will,” Bucky says, as if just the words alone are enough to make it true.

\--

The painted on tattoo lasts for well over a week before Bucky accepts defeat and washes the last traces of it away. When Steve had finished it Bucky asked him to take photos so that he can keep them as memory (he ended up taking nearly 30 trying to capture every little detail at Bucky’s request). The next day Bucky had gone out and bought some baby powder to rub into the design and then sprayed the whole thing down with a metric ton of hairspray. That alongside the fact that Steve had used ink, meant that the image lasted a lot longer than any drawn on sharpie attempt ever would have done.

He has no idea what he can do to repay Steve’s kindness for doing that. The way Steve had just looked at him as if soaking in every detail and imperfection like he is something to be cherished; he still can’t describe how that makes him feel. He tries to come up with some words in his journal, thinking that writing it down will make it easier, but nothing really seems to add up. Steve is just unique in the way he makes Bucky feel, and Bucky is willing to hang on to that for as long as he is allowed.


	8. Chapter 8

The first snow of the winter falls in the last week of November. Steve wants to throw something up at the clouds in retaliation for the weather not holding off for just one more week until his classes finish until the New Year. It isn’t that he dislikes snow, it is pretty enough to look at, but trying to get anywhere in it is a total nightmare. It looks like there has been a good five or six inches over night. Although the roads are always mostly cleared pretty quickly, Steve had learnt the hard way last year that his little car just isn’t cut out for these conditions. Public transport is also most likely non-existent right now.

He pulls out his phone and sends a quick message to Bucky.

_‘I can’t believe this weather!! Could it not have waited another few days so that I no longer have to go to class???’_

His phone buzzes with a reply a few minutes later.

_‘I am trying really hard not to laugh! You aren’t seriously still going in.’_

_‘I have to. I have deadlines to meet : (‘_

Steve shoves the rest of his work into his backpack along with some other materials, plus his inhaler which no doubt he will be needing today if it really is as cold as it looks from inside.

_‘How are you getting there? Nothing is running.’_

_‘Walking : ( If you don’t hear from me by 1pm this afternoon then notify search and rescue.’_

_‘You are so dramatic. How about I come by later and help you warm up with hot chocolate?’_

_‘Sounds lovely : )’_

It eventually takes Steve a whole forty-five minutes to walk to the college. Half way there it decides to start snowing again. He won’t be surprised if there’s an extra couple of inches by the time he gets out later.

 _‘Arrived in one piece just about. Everything crossed that I can still get home after,’_ he quickly sends to Bucky, before heading off to find a cup of coffee that he can try to thaw his fingers out on. At least the heating in the building seems to be on full force.

It must have stopped snowing again not long after his classes started, because when he steps out of the building later he is surprised to find the snow on the ground at pretty similar levels as when he went in. He’d already let Bucky know he was just leaving and he didn’t really think twice about the reply he got saying that Bucky would see him ‘very soon’.

Despite already having his scarf wrapped in layers around his neck, he turns up the collar of his coat against the cold of the wind. He’s just pulling on his second glove when he feels a hard thud in the front of his leg.

“What the hell,” he murmurs, as he looks down to see the dusting of snow now stuck to his pants. Before he can do anything else about it a second snowball hits him in the shoulder. He’s about to start shouting for his attacker to come out and face him when he hears laughter coming from behind the wall across the college courtyard.

“Heads up, Steve!”

The third snowball hits him straight in the stomach, although it isn’t hard.

“Bucky?” he calls out, recognising the voice straight away. “You are such a jerk! You realise you’ve started a war now.” Steve grabs a handful of snow and starts sprinting over to Bucky’s hiding place behind the wall. Bucky jumps up and makes to run, but slips a little on the melted snow under his feet and Steve manages to get a perfect shot away into his side.

“You fight dirty! No close range attacks!” Bucky says indignantly.

“Oh, but it’s all okay for you to sneak attack me,” Steve replies as he grabs another handful of snow and rounds it into a ball, just as Bucky is trying to do the same.

They carry on like that for a good ten minutes, by which point Bucky has somehow managed to get Steve cornered and is currently threatening the aim of a very large snowball right at his head. Steve is holding his sides and breathing heavily through the gasps of laughter he is trying to control.

“Okay,” he gasps, “I surrender. You win.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks, suspiciously.

“Completely positive. You are the snowballing champion.”

Steve watches as Bucky drops the snowball to the ground and begins to dust the snow off his glove and his jacket.

“We should probably get home and get into some dry clothes before the cold gets to us.” Steve agrees and starts to brush off the remaining snow. When he looks back up he makes a grab for Bucky’s arm to stop him from walking away just yet.

“Did you come all this way just to meet me? How’d you get here? Buses aren’t running.”

Bucky smiles, “Same way you did; I walked. It’s not far really and I quite like the snow. Plus, someone has to make sure you don’t fall down on your punk ass and break your neck.”

“Me and my punk ass are just fine, I have you know.”

“Okay, well it is for the sake of science then.”

“What science?”

“The science where I wanted to see how cute you looked with snow caught in your hair,” Bucky says, and a makes a gesture to pick a small piece of snow from where it sat resting in Steve’s bangs.

Steve is pretty sure he stops breathing at that point. He isn’t stupid; Bucky is definitely flirting with him. He isn’t sure if the snowy landscape makes it seem even that more obvious, or if it is his burning hope that Bucky would say things like that to him. It gives him even more hope on top of the already building suspicions that perhaps Bucky might possibly feel more than just friendship for Steve too.

Either way, a feeling spread through him that feels much like a shock spreading straight down through all extremities of his body and right then he wants to kiss Bucky more than any other time before. And Bucky looks beautiful with his hair falling around his face from underneath the ridiculous looking bobble hat that he is wearing, and his lips are slightly damp were he’s been licking at them to sooth the skin there that is chapped from the cold. It is all encompassing, but just like that the moment is over.

Bucky flings his arm around Steve’s shoulders and starts to lead him away.

“C’mon Stevie, I don’t want to be the one responsible for you getting a cold or something.”

\--

Steve shouldn’t be so surprised when it eventually happens. While the forty-five minute walk home is nice with Bucky chatting steadily about anything and everything by his side, the air really has got a lot colder and coupled together with his earlier exertion during the snowball fight, he probably should have paid closer attention to the heavy feeling pressing in his chest and the more persistent urge to cough every time he takes a particularly deep breath of cold air. Being the stubborn person he is however, he doesn’t ask Bucky to stop so he can use his inhaler. All he has to do is get home and then he can take it and be okay and they can carry on with their evening.

By the time they get to Steve’s apartment block though, he knows Bucky has noticed that something isn’t quite right with him. He’s been fighting off the urge to cough, but once he starts it keeps coming. The heavy feeling in his chest has progressed into that feeling of fierce tightening like someone has an industrial strength rubber band wrapped around his lungs. Each breath he takes is sounding the more awful for it.

“Steve, are you okay?” Bucky asks, and Steve can see the worry settling behind those blue eyes.

“S’okay,” Steve says weakly, “just asthma. I’ll be okay once I’m inside. I have medication I can take. It’ll be fine.”

Bucky doesn’t look completely convinced and after Steve has another strong coughing fit he puts his arm around Steve’s back to support him as they make their way inside the block and start up the stairs.

Being inside doesn’t make things better. Steve thinks himself a fool for believing that would be the case. He should have taken his inhaler long ago and now he is paying the price by breathing with the wheeze of an old man with a fifty-a-day habit. The coughing is becoming uncontrollable, with each gasp he makes for breath turning into a shudder. He is only slightly aware of Bucky trying to keep talking to him and then being pulled through the door of the apartment.

“Sam? I need your help; I don’t know what to do!” Bucky calls out as soon as they are inside.

Next thing he knows Sam is rushing up to both of them and helping to lead Steve through into the lounge. He gives Bucky instructions to help him sit forward with his head resting on his knees and then he disappears off. Steve doesn’t have the energy to try to look up at Bucky’s face; he knows anyway that he will probably look terrified by now.

Sam returns quickly with Steve’s spare inhaler from the bathroom but it is stuck into the end of a plastic cylinder with what looks like an oxygen mask on the end of it.

“It’s a spacer,” Sam says, “he won’t be able to breathe in the medication correctly directly from the inhaler in this state.” Steve sits up again as Sam helps him and holds the mask over his face.

“Three pumps to begin with, okay Steve?” Steve nods and after Sam presses the top of the inhaler he tries to focus all his concentration on breathing as normally as he can. It isn’t instant relief; it takes a few minutes for any medication to get into his system and have an effect, but after a few minutes he could feel the discomfort in his lungs ever so slightly slowly start to ease off.

Sam removes the masked from his face and guides him back into the position of leaning his head forward over his knees.

“Bucky, go to Steve’s room and get the blanket from his bed, we don’t want him getting too cold now and going into shock as well.”

Steve tries to look around for Bucky from where he is sitting, but he can’t see him. He hasn’t seen him all the time he was breathing through his spacer, as if he’d backed well out of the way of the situation. Steve doesn’t really blame him; it is pretty scary to see for the first time. He just hopes Bucky isn’t too freaked out.

He feels the blanket get draped around his shoulders when Bucky returns and he wanted desperately to reach out for his hand and tell him not to worry, that it is all okay now, but Bucky all too quickly moves away across the room again out of his reach. He looks distant and scared, as if he wants to run.

Once his breathing has almost returned to normal he tries to smile over at Bucky to get his attention, but is mostly met with a blank stare, and that worries him more than anything.

“It’s okay, Buck. I’m alright now. It looked much worse than it was.” Bucky only nods in response. “We can still watch a movie if you want,” Steve says hopefully.

“I think I should probably just get home. Just in case it snows again. I don’t want Nat to worry.”

“Okay,” he says, trying his very best to keep all disappointment out of his voice, “I’ll just see you tomorrow then? Perhaps Sam can drop me round to your place in the morning; he’s not working tomorrow,” he adds as he flashes a hopeful look at Sam.

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky says before he starts to head for the door, “I’ll see you.”

Steve watches Bucky leave and can’t help but feel as if a bucket of ice has just been tipped down into his stomach.

“I think you really scared him,” Sam says.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky goes straight to bed when he gets home. Nat had left a note to say she’s staying at Clint’s, so there really is nothing worth staying up for. He’s tired and confused, and he hates that he’d been so freaking useless in doing anything to help Steve. Worst of all he’d felt scared, more scared than he could actually remember being since he’d spent his first few weeks out in the war zone in Afghanistan.

The distressing thing is that he can’t even begin to work out everything else he’s feeling. His emotions are all over the place. It’d been such a fun time in the snow and Steve had seemed so happy and it felt so right to be having that much fun with him. Bucky didn’t want to have those experiences with anyone else. When he’d looked at Steve with the snow all caught in his hair he didn’t know what he wanted to do; it was almost as if he could have reached out and kissed him.

Then the asthma attack happened and all Bucky could think of while he stood by helplessly was that the world knows. The world knows what Steve means to him and it is going to rip him away from him and leave him with nothing, again. He isn’t allowed to be happy and if it is the last good thing he can do he has to protect Steve from the carnage that is his life.

He wakes up early the next morning and tries to spend it as normally as possible, but that doesn’t stop his heart from pounding when the text comes through from Steve saying he is on his way over if it is still okay. Bucky has tried really hard to stop and think and be rational, but this feels like the only rational thought left.  This is how he is going to protect Steve and move him away from his toxic world. He needs to do with him like he’s done with Becca. He’s been broken before, more than once, so he knows how this has to go to break Steve.

Despite knowing the code to Bucky’s door, Steve still knocks and waits for him to answer.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“Hey, Steve,” neither of them move from the doorway and then Steve holds out a paper bag.

“I brought hot chocolate seeing as we didn’t get chance to have any yesterday. I’m sorry about what happened. I know it can look pretty scary. I am sorry.”

Bucky takes the bag and leads Steve inside, “You don’t need to be sorry, it was my fault.”

Steve frowns at him, once they are both standing in the kitchen.

“Of course it isn’t your fault. I should have just taken my inhaler sooner, it was an accident.”

Bucky sighs and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He doesn’t know if he can do this. He isn’t strong enough to tear down this little world of happiness he’s built around himself, but he has to. He has to protect Steve because he...because he has to. Steve doesn’t understand; it is never an accident, it is always Bucky. This is for the best.

“Steve,” he says quietly, “we can’t be friends anymore.”

The moment he says it he feels like he is going to throw up. He can’t bring himself to even look at Steve as the words leave his mouth.

“I don’t know what you mean, Bucky.”

“We can’t be friends anymore. I thought we could but we can’t.”

“Why not?” And there it is; the big question. This is where he is going to be pushed, because he knows Steve won’t go without a fight, especially if it doesn’t make sense. Steve knows Bucky even better than Natasha does now. The difference between Steve and Natasha though is that Bucky knows exactly where Steve’s heart is and he is prepared to break it to keep him safe.

“Why not? Because I’ve had enough, Steve. I’ve has enough of feeling like I’m your every concern. I’ve had enough of looking in your eyes and seeing the hesitation as you worry about every little thing that might cause me to go off the rails. That’s why you’ve come over today, right? To check that I aren’t sitting in the corner crying because I couldn’t cope seeing an asthma attack.”

“No, Bucky, it’s not like that at all,” Steve replies calmly.

“No, listen! I’ve let myself get sucked into this world of make believe where I think everyone could actually care, but the reality is that none of it will ever last. Eventually it will all wear thin and then what will happen?”

“Bucky, you aren’t making any sense, just stop and breathe for a moment-”

“I don’t need to stop and breathe. I’m thinking quite clearly and I’ve decided the best thing for me is to cut all of this out, including you.”

“Listen, Bucky, whatever has made you think like this, I’m sure we can work it out and get through it, please. We all care about you. I care about you.”

Bucky laughs. It is so convincing in its detachment that he almost breaks down hearing it come out of his own mouth.

“See, why are you like that? Listen to what I’m saying! Maybe I don’t want you to care about me, and maybe I’d be happier that way than I am right now.”

“Everyone deserves to be cared for Buck, to be loved.” Bucky sees the hand reaching out for him in time to pull away. Why is this so hard? He’s going to break and give up before Steve does.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you get it, Steve? I don’t need you. I don’t want to need you. And I am done being suffocated.”

Bucky looks at Steve then, and really wishes he hadn’t, because that will be the face that haunts the rest of his existence. Steve’s eyes are brimming with tears and all colorhas drained from his face to leave it sickly pale. He looks like he’s going to throw up. This is every reason why Bucky doesn’t deserve Steve and every reason why he needs to get Steve as far away from him as possible.

“Please Bucky, you don’t mean all that. I know you don’t mean all that. We’re friends...To the end of the line.”

Bucky swallows hard and breathes deep. No, not that, he isn’t going to listen to that. He frowns as much as he can without crying and stares straight at Steve, “Please,” he says through gritted teeth. “Get out.”

And he sees it, he sees the actual moment every bit of fight leaves Steve’s body, and he hates it. He doesn’t think he can ever hate anyone else as much as he hates himself in this moment.

“You know I’m always there, Bucky, if you need me,” he hears Steve say so quietly as he heads out of the door.

As soon as he is sure that Steve has left the apartment and he’s sure he could no longer hear his footfalls on the stares, Bucky leans against the wall and collapses down to the floor. Harsh breaths quickly descend into broken angry sobs that shake his whole body. He’s done it and everything is just blinding pain.

\--

Steve somehow manages to get back to his apartment building without even realising what he is actually doing. He is numb. When he gets to his front door he knocks.

“Steve?” Sam asks in surprise when he opens the door.

“Hey, Sam.”

“Where are your keys? And why are you back so soon?”

Steve just shrugs and then he finds he can’t hold himself together any longer from the weight of everything he’s holding back. Sam quickly pulls him inside and leads him over to the couch to sit down.

“Shit, Steve, what the hell happened?”

Steve spends a good fifteen minutes explaining what has happened, going over everything Bucky said and trying to work out exactly what he did to trigger it. Every conclusion he comes to doesn’t make sense, and the less it makes sense the more it hurts. Sam doesn’t try to interrupt, he just listens patiently to every word and Steve is so thankful for it.

“I am in love with him, Sam,” Steve eventually gasps, “So fucking much...And it hurts more than anything else I’ve experienced in my life.”

“I don’t know what to say to make it better, Steve,” Sam eventually offers.

“Neither do I,” says Steve. He allows himself to take several deep breaths then and tries to escape the fuzzy feeling that is settling in his head. “Someone should call Nat. Bucky isn’t in a good place. I don’t think he should be alone.” He makes to get up to go and get this phone that he has left in his jacket pocket, but Sam’s hand on his shoulder is firm and insistent as he pushes him back to sitting.

“Sit down, Steve. I’ll do it.”

\--

Bucky hears the door of the apartment slam hard and he nearly jumps from his skin in the position where he is still slumped against the wall.

“James Barnes, if you don’t tell me where you are then I will tear this apartment upside down until I find you!” No sooner are the words out of Nat’s mouth than she turns the corner into the kitchen and sees him sitting on the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ, James.”

“Don’t, Nat. Please, just...Don’t.”

\--

Eventually she manages to get most of the story out of him, but it isn’t easy. Sam had told her over the phone as much as he could, but he’d been aware that Steve was still listening in and he also didn’t feel very comfortable passing on the story in his own words. Bucky has relayed pretty much the same thing, but he’s filled in the blanks about why he’d done it in the first place. All the pieces that Steve can’t have known about wanting to keep him safe and separating him from Bucky’s life that would only end up breaking both of them. How he can’t drag Steve down the road with him and how Steve deserves better.

Nat has nowhere near the same amount of patience as Sam does, and her sympathies are far firmer and biting, but she still listens, and Bucky is surprised to find himself cocooned in her arms after he finishes telling the main story of events.

“I think I’m in love with him, Nat, and I have no fucking idea what I’m meant to do. I thought I was doing the right thing, but it doesn’t feel right at all.”

“You can stop being so dramatic for a start. Yes, love is scary, James, it’s terrifying, but that’s half of the joy of it. You freaked out because you thought you were going to lose the one person who gives you that much joy; surely the smart thing to do would have been to tell him how you feel and embrace that feeling while you have it, because not everyone falls in love, James, not everyone finds someone to love them.”

Bucky doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he just nods his head and hopes that Natasha sees it.

“Now you listen to me and you listen to me good. The first thing you are going to do is get up and take a shower and wash this all away. I don’t pretend to know everything about this thing you have with Steve, but I do know something; For the past few months you have been happy and I don’t just mean ‘fake it until you make it’ happy, I mean proper damn happy. I have no idea what you can actually say to try to fix this mess, but I’m not going to sit here and let you fuck up the one thing in your life that is really good for you, not without a fight. Now go get yourself ready and then get on your boots and jacket because I’m going to drive you over to Steve’s.”

\--

Steve goes to bed just after 7pm. He is exhausted and emotionally drained. Anything feels better than trying to stay awake and not knowing what is actually worth staying awake for. He hopes things will feel better in the morning. He wishes he could wipe the last forty-eight hours and start over. It isn’t going to happen though, and if all he can do is sleep until he is ready to deal with it, then that’s what he will do.

When he wakes it’s to the sound of buzzing. He isn’t sure what time it is but he doesn’t feel very well rested and the light outside his door is on, so it must only be late evening. It takes a few hazy moments for him to realise that the buzzing is from his phone on the table. Sam has only let him have it back with the promise that he wouldn’t try texting Bucky. In his disorientation he struggles to grab it from the table, and when he eventually does get hold of it he swipes to accept the call without a glance at the caller ID.

“Hello,” he mumbles into the phone.

“Steve?” Within a second all the sleepy haze leaves his body to be replaced by the pounding of blood in his ears as adrenaline floods his senses. The voice on the other end sounds so small and lost.

“Bucky? Are you okay? What’s happened?”

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“Bucky, where are you? Is Nat with you?”

“I’m outside your front door,” Steve jumps up instantly and starts to make his way to the door of his room to the main part of the apartment. “Please don’t come out,” Bucky adds urgently.

“Bucky?”

“Please, Steve. Just...Just come to the door. Don’t open it. Just be there? I know I have no right to ask for anything from you, but please.”

Steve looks at Sam as he passes through the lounge and tries to say everything he can with just the expression on his face as he makes his way to the front door.

“Okay, Bucky, I’m here.” He gets no response for a while and then he realises the phone line has gone dead. He moves his own away from his ear and puts it down, “Bucky?” he asks through the door.

“I never even noticed that you have a cat flap until now,” Bucky says. Steve can’t help but smile, even if it is sad and only barely there.

“We don’t have a cat.”

“Can we just talk like this, through the cat flap? I have some things to say and I know I’m too shit scared to say them to your face.”

“Sure, Bucky, here’s fine.” He settles himself down with one side of his body leaning against the door. He can hear Bucky just fine despite the barrier, but being on the same level will help, and the exhaustion is still so present in his body he isn’t sure quite how much longer he would be able to stay standing anyway. He doesn’t even know what Bucky has to say.

“I’m scared, Stevie. I’m really scared,” Bucky begins. “I know you care, and I care too. I know that sounds awful after all the things I said to you this morning, but it’s true. I care about you so much that it scares me more than I can understand.”

Steve is aware Sam has wandered over into the kitchen to get a better ear to what is going on, but he doesn’t care right then. He would be doing the same in this situation; always being protective just out of the way, just in case.

“Steve, this thing we had. This thing that I hope we can still have...I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve tried to ignore it and rationalise it away so many times, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that how I feel about you is different and stronger to how I’ve ever felt about any person in my life. You’re such a good person and I still can’t work out quite why you ever wanted me around, but I’m so glad that you did, because I found a happiness with you that I never thought I’d know, especially after everything that happened when I is away. I look at you and I see hope and life.”

Everything goes silent on Bucky’s side after that. After a while Steve thinks maybe he has gone, but when he listens carefully he can hear ragged breathing from the other side.

“Bucky?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky doesn’t respond, but then Steve watches as fingers press up to the window of the cat flap. Understanding what Bucky is trying to do, Steve flicks the lock on the flap so that it can be pushed open. Bucky eases his hand through and tentatively feels around until Steve gives in and wraps his own hand around it.

“You’re a good man, Steve, a better man than I ever deserved to meet...And when I saw you have that asthma attack I is so scared that I is going to lose you too. I realised then that feeling that strongly for one single person isn’t just friendship, that’s love. And I panicked. And I was afraid that if I ever admitted how I felt about you, then you’d be taken just like everybody else, because that’s what happens to people in my life; they get hurt. I thought I could save you by pushing you away, but that’s not the way things work at all. I wish I could take back the last 24 hours and just be brave instead and tell you how I feel. I wish we could pretend the last 24 hours never happened.”

Steve wipes at the tear that is sliding down his face. He wants the same things. He wants them so much that it hurts. He caresses that back of Bucky’s hand with his thumb and feels the tremble in the fingers as he holds it.

“We can do that, if you want,” Steve says slowly. “We can forget that any of this happened.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now can I open the door and let you in, because right now I really want to hold you, and I think you want to hold me too,” Steve says tearfully.

Bucky’s hand lets go of his and retreats back through the flap. Steve listens as Bucky picks himself up off the floor and he does the same, before turning the handle on the lock and pulling it open.

They stand staring at each other for a long moment, before Bucky steps forward and wraps his arm as tight as he can around Steve’s waist. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s body and holds him close.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry,” Bucky mumbles into the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt at his shoulder. Steve presses his cheek into Bucky’s head and tightens his grip even more around him.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay. I understand now. We can work this out, I know we can.”

Steve almost forgots about Sam now sitting back in the lounge, but he obviously decides their moment is up when he shouts over to them.

“You guys owe me so much beer,” and Steve watches as he tries to make a gesture with his hands about how much, before giving up, “Just, so much. I can’t even imagine how much it looks like, that’s how much you owe me.”

\--

Nat comes up after Sam calls her to fill her in on what has happened. Bucky goes home with her so that he can get a decent night’s sleep. Steve is happy enough to do the same, because now the adrenaline is running down he feels as if most of his body is slowly just giving out on him. He gives it five minutes before he pulls out his phone and sends a message to Bucky. It isn’t anything wordy or profound, or any obvious declarations of love. It is short and simple, and something with meaning.

_‘To the end of the line.’_


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky gets up the next morning and Natasha drives him over to his therapist. He has a lot to tell her and for the first half an hour he’s brought Nat through with him, because he isn’t quite sure he can go through it all alone again. Once she goes back outside to wait he feels vulnerable again. His therapist picks up on this and just smiles at him softly, sympathetically.

“James, when you first went to the group, the sexuality and gender support group, when you even first thought of attending, did you think perhaps it was because you felt drawn to the idea of forming a relationship with someone and you wanted to understand how you could do that when you felt the way you did?”

“No,” he says straight away and then stops to think about it for a bit longer, “Maybe...Maybe not there, but in the future. I just wanted something that felt like it was for me and not something that was somehow linked to the army...Something that is regular people stuff. I wanted to feel human and I wanted to feel like maybe there is the possibility that there is something worth getting better for.”

“Are you scared of the feelings you have for Steve?”

“Yes, ma’am, very. Things are better when I’m with him. Everything just feels strangely nice, and when I’m not with him I find myself wanting to be with him. It’s always been like this pull for me, right since the very beginning, as if we’re made from the same thread that’s just spent time going in different directions.”

“And you think Steve feels the same way as you?”

“Yeah, yeah I think he does. He’s such a good person though. I just feel like he’d be stupid not to realise he could do better than me.”

“Do you not think you’re a good person, James?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “Ha. Compared to Steve Rogers, ma’am, I’m not very good at all. But I try. I really try. I wish I could be enough.”

“Are you imagining your emotional availability to him when you say that, or sexual.” Bucky looks away before he answers, it is a lot to have to accept and admit to for him.

“Both. Definitely both.”

“It seems reasonable to suggest that it would best be a decision for Steve to make then, doesn’t it. It sounds like he cares for you an awful lot. Perhaps all these things you are so worried about are things he’s already considered and accepted about you already.”

\--

They don’t see each other again until Friday evening. Steve has deadlines to meet for his classes and some commissioned work that he’s spent the past couple of days neglecting. Bucky doesn’t have much in the way of things he has to get done, but he’d eventually been roped in by Nat to come along to the gym where she holds her classes so that they can have some sparring time together. He wishes he’d done it sooner when she’d first mentioned the idea, because everything about it is exactly what he needs; concentration, breathing, exercise, and a physical release. Plus, there’s nothing quite as refreshing as getting his ass kicked by a fiery redhead with a pretty serious set of hand to hand combat skills.

Bucky has exchanged messages with Steve a few times during the couple of days they haven’t seen each other. It is mostly Steve still complaining about having to get to class in the snow, and Bucky teasing Steve about having to get to class in the snow. He is so thankful for the normalcy of the conversation.

On Friday morning Bucky feels brave so he sends Steve a message saying he can’t wait to see him that evening. Steve responds back saying he can’t wait to see Bucky either, and the warm glow that spreads through his body after reading it is a feeling he could very quickly become addicted to.

The snow means it takes an extra fifteen minutes to walk from his place to Steve’s. It doesn’t sound like much, but it does mean that by the time he gets there his fingers are so cold he struggles to even press the buzzer on the door so that Steve can let him up.

When Steve opens the door the first thing Bucky does is hold out the paper bag that is in his hand.

“Third time lucky?” he says. Steve gives him a warm smile as he takes it and looks inside to see the too takeaway cups of hot chocolate.

“Yeah, third time lucky,” he agrees.

They both decided that Game of Thrones is probably a bit too intense for them after the week they’ve had. Instead Steve sticks in a DVD of Monty Pyphon and the Holy Grail. Bucky hasn’t seen it before and Steve reassures him that while it is old (and British) it is funny, and he has a feeling there is a part that Bucky will find funnier than the rest. When the Black Knight appears, Bucky can feel Steve’s gaze on him as if watching him for a reaction. It’s almost like he is now questioning the decision to put the film on. Steve needn’t have worried though, Bucky ends up laughing so much that he has to catch his breath afterwards.

“I like him,” he says, pointing to the Black Knight at the end of the scene, “Good fighting style. A+ for effort.”

Bucky never gets to the end of the film. After an hour he lays his head on Steve’s shoulder, only to have Steve pull him down a little further so that he is laying more comfortably on his chest. That is his downfall then because the last thing he remembers is feeling very relaxed just listening to the steady beat of Steve’s heart. The next thing he is aware of is Steve’s hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. Steve explains that the film had ended an hour previous but he didn’t want to wake Bucky, but he’s feeling tired himself now and the sofa isn’t really the place he wants to be spending the night.

“I should probably start making my way home anyway,” Bucky says sleepily. He yawns and stretches, and then watches as Steve fidgets with his hands obviously wanting to say something but not quite sure how to say it.

“Bucky, you know, if you wanted, you could stay here tonight. There’s plenty of room in my bed. It doesn’t have to be strange.”

Bucky takes a couple of moments then just to look at Steve. He really is an adorable dork. An adorable, brave, loving dork, and he wants Bucky to stay over the night to just lay with him.

“Well, I’m not sure if I’m allowed out for sleepovers. I might have to check first with my minder,” he teases.

Steve drops his head as he chuckles slightly and then looks up through his eyelashes and smiles shyly back up at Bucky, and Bucky is gone. Every feeling he has for Steve swells inside him and stretches to every piece of his being.  Right then, at that moment, he can’t imagine ever feeling the same for anyone else.

“Of course I’ll stay,” he says quietly, at last, “And I maybe wouldn’t mind even if your bed were smaller.”

When they eventually get off to bed, Bucky falls asleep a lot quicker than he has done for a long time, with Steve’s arms wrapped around him and the occasional sentimental whisper in his ear. He wishes at that moment that he could be brave enough to just turn round in Steve’s arms and kiss him, but he is too content and sleep is already taking him.

\--

When Bucky wakes it takes him a couple of moments to remember where he is and why he feels so happy and relaxed. Steve, it is always going to be Steve. He is no longer in the bed with him though, but he can’t have been up long because when Bucky rolls over the space in the bed next to him is still warm. The absence is probably what stirred him from sleep. He can hear noises from the kitchen now and figures that he’ll go and find Steve in a minute, after he’s had a couple more moments enjoying the peace of being so content and without worry.

It isn’t long before Steve wanders back in carrying a hot mug of tea in his hands that he places on the table next to Bucky.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” he says and Bucky smiles.

“Good morning.”

“You don’t know how late it is, do you?” Steve teases.

“Nope, and I don’t really care.”

“Well, I’m making breakfast anyway, so you should think about getting up.” Steve has sat down on the bed next to Bucky and his hand finds Bucky’s head and he begins to brush fingers gently back through his hair and carding the lose strands from out of his face. Bucky makes no effort to hide how much he likes that and tries to press further into Steve’s touch.

“Mmm, in a minute, it’s real nice in here.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and then he places a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head and before Bucky has chance to process what has happened and how it makes him tingle from head to toe, Steve has already wandered back off to the kitchen. Bucky lays in bed for another minute before making the decision to drag himself out and wander through into the kitchen to find Steve. There is something he really has to do and if he doesn’t do it now then he’s worried he’ll never be brave enough to, and Steve has already given him so much, he wants this to come from him.

Steve is busy fussing over what smells like pancake batter in a pan on the stove. Bucky would feel guilty about how he is soon going to interrupt him, but he’s already seen the ready to pour pancake mixture bottle next to the stove and that makes him feel less so.

“Steve, turn that off and come over here for a minute,” he says softly.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks, as he turns to look over his shoulder.

“Everything’s fine, just turn that off and come over here, just for a moment.” Steve looks confused, but he turns the hob off anyway and makes his way over to Bucky. His hair is still sleep mussed and his cheeks still have a hint of pink to them from where he’s been laying in the bed, and Bucky wants so much to just reach up and caress his face and lean in and kiss him. Steve reaches out and touches his arm and that pulls Bucky back to himself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay...Just-”

He does exactly as he just imagined. He places his hand to Steve’s face, leans up just a little, and presses his lips softly to Steve’s. It takes only a moment for both of Steve’s hands to come up and cup either side of Bucky’s face as he kisses him back. Bucky melts into it then and relaxes into Steve’s touch. The anxiety leaves his body in a rush as if chased out by the warmth that floods through him, and he knows he’s never felt safer than he feels right now.

Steve breaks the kiss first, but only so he can pull Bucky closer into a hug. They hold each other close for a little bit longer as if both trying to catch up with what has just happened.

“You can do that whenever you like,” Steve eventually breathes.

“Noted,” Bucky says, “Steve, you know I love you, right? I wasn’t sure for such a long time. I was confused. But I do. I love you.”

Steve loosens his hold on Bucky and pushes him just a little bit away so he can look at him. He’s smiling and it’s beautiful, and Bucky wants to be the reason to put that smile their everyday from now on for as long as he is allowed.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

Bucky pulls Steve back close to him and presses his face into his neck, just breathing him in and feeling the beat of his pulse against his cheek. He’d craved this touch so much and hasn’t even realised it, too busy being caught up in trying to work so many things out. As much as he’s spent so much of his life fighting to protect everyone around him, it feels so much better than okay to just stop and not think and let all of this happen.

He comes back to himself after a few minutes when Steve tries to push him away, but before Bucky can protest much, Steve’s hand wraps around his and his thumb begins a gentle caress over his knuckles that makes Bucky just stop and look up to him.

“Come on,” Steve says, “breakfast can wait. We’ll go back to bed. It will be much more comfortable there and,” Steve pauses and somehow still managed to look shy and hesitant as he looks away from Bucky’s gaze, “I’m not sure if I want to stop holding you anytime soon.”

“I think I can be happy with that,” Bucky says with a fond smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading.   
> My amazing bestest friend who I wrote this for has made art to go with it and it's gorgeous and perfect, so you should go check it out http://tealtumbleweed.tumblr.com/post/120347389337/either-way-a-feeling-spread-through-him-that
> 
> Also, tentatively saying there may be a sequel to this in the future because I just haven't been able to let this 'verse go and I keep making notes because there are so many parts I still want to explore future in Steve and Bucky's lives.


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